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Editor’s note: This is part 2 of a multipart series. Catch up with part 1.

I was at ease with him almost immediately. All of his jokes (both corny and not) aside, there was something very sincere in the way he spoke to me—a level of honesty was there that stood out and made itself noticed.

He was self-assured without being presumptuous. He was confident without being cocky. He was intense and intentional, direct and laid-back, funny, sexy and cool—all at the same time.

I liked the way he looked directly in my eyes as he was speaking to me and when he listened to me speak. I loved the way he used big words in the most unpretentious way.

He bought me drinks but didn’t ply me with alcohol. He let me make requests but was proactive when it was required.

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When my suitor and his brother asked if my friend and I wanted to come with them back to their hotel suite, me and my girl only had to glance at each other to know that we were both saying yes.

It’s easy to throw caution to the wind when you feel comfortable with someone, but just to be safe, we sent pictures of him and his brother to her sister and told her where we were going.

I have heard people say that a woman knows usually within moments of meeting a man if she’s going to sleep with him or not—it’s just a matter of when.

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I don’t know how true this is for other women, but speaking for myself, I would say that 9 times out of 10, that is definitely the case.

In the case of Mr. He Did That (HDT from now on), I certainly knew before we left the first bar—but I also knew it wouldn’t be on that first night.

We socialized as a group for a little over an hour in the living room of their suite before he took my hand and led me to his separate bedroom.

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“We need some alone time,” he said.

We were comfortably numb from all the alcohol. He turned on his iPod and we lay facing each other on the bed, talking.

After what seemed like hours but may have only been minutes, I could tell we were going to kiss.

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Somehow, gravity had pulled us closer together. My breasts were pressed into his chest. His arm was draped around my waist. Our noses were practically touching.

He looked at me—as if checking to see if it would be OK—and in response, I ran my tongue slowly across his lips.

I felt like every nerve ending in my body was on fire. His kisses were gentle but urgent. He nibbled my lips, kissed my neck, rubbed the small of my back and held me as close to him as possible.

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It was intense.

When the kisses got longer and the petting got heavier, we pulled away from each other and took a breath.

“I like you,” he said.

“I like you too, “ I smiled.

He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

I rolled over onto my stomach, my face turned toward him.

He rubbed my back and stared back at me.

“Do you ... ”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. “I do,” I said. “But I don’t think we should.”

He nodded, knowingly. “Probably not.”

He pulled me closer to him again, in the spooning position.

I could feel his excitement press against me—and truth be told, that got me excited, too—but his breathing was so slow and calm in my ear, I could feel myself melting into him.

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We lay there, relaxed, whispering into the early-morning hours.

At some point before we drifted off, he promised to stuff me full of pancakes when we woke up.

He made good on that. My hair was a mess after having let him play in it, plus sleeping on it with no bonnet. I said as much on our Lyft ride to the breakfast spot.

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After breakfast, he took me to my hotel to get my bags, and then he took me to Kennedy Airport in a Lyft so he could see me off.

He said goodbye to me in front of the terminal with a hug that seemed to go on forever and kisses I wished didn’t have to stop.

“I hope I showed you a good time last night.”

I smiled and kissed him again without saying a word.

Because, yes, he did that.

To be continued next Friday.