When the Sun Goes Down

by Erin Noelle

  “What’s that?” I whisper, completely enthralled in every word that’s coming out of his mouth.

  “Protectiveness.” He leans in and softly sweeps his soft, full lips against mine. “I feel this overwhelming need to keep you close to me, to keep you safe from everything,” Gently, he begins to nip at my bottom lip. “To blanket you in affection and adoration and to worship every inch of you, inside and out.”

  Moaning lightly, I tilt my hips so that I can grind my aching body against his hard body. “I’ve got a lot of demons you’ll need to protect me from,” I say breathlessly.

  He smiles against my mouth and his eyes light up at my capitulation. “I don’t mind a challenge, especially not when getting to keep you is the reward.”

  Completely lost in our own world, we don’t even hear Stephen re-enter the room until he asks, “So I’m guessing dinner’s still going to be a while?”

  Lucca and I both start laughing as he releases his hold on me and I slide down the wall until my feet touch the ground. He kisses me once more on the forehead and then swats my ass as we both walk back over to the kitchen.

  “Please don’t stop on my account,” Stephen remarks with a sly grin. “But you do have a bedroom for that kind of thing. That is, unless you’d like me to watch…”

  “Get a life, jack ass,” Lucca retorts while he begins to pull pots and pans out from the cabinets. “Or better yet, a girl of your own to harass.”

  I excuse myself to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. I’m more than a little worked up from the entire wall encounter. As much as I want to believe everything he said, it’s hard for me to trust him. God knows that I want to. Oh, what I’d give to let go of the monsters in my mind that torment me on a daily basis and move forward with a normal life with Lucca. I’m terrified if I ever tell him the truth about me, he’ll walk out of my life as quickly as he walked into it, but I know the longer I continue to lie to him, chances are that he’ll do that anyway.

  Dinner with the guys is a true delight. Just two years apart in age, the two of them together act more like brothers than cousins; they take turns telling me embarrassing stories of each other from when they grew up in south Florida. I learn about the time Lucca tied Stephen to a tree swing and left him there to pee in his pants, as well as the time Stephen made Lucca walk barefoot through dog poop. The three of us laugh until we are crying and our sides hurt, in addition to devouring the delicious meal that we all assisted in cooking. It surprises me immensely how natural it feels for the three of us to interact and hang out together.

  We all help out in cleaning up the kitchen and loading the dishwasher, and then Lucca and I say good night to Stephen as we break off into the separate bedrooms. Once we are alone behind the closed door, I become a little apprehensive, unsure of what to expect. Thankfully, he senses my unease and immediately calms my nerves. He draws me into his warm body, enveloping me in his strong arms and nuzzling my neck.

  “You don’t need to worry, Trina. I’m not going to push you to do anything that you don’t want to do, and that includes physical actions as well as talking about things you aren’t ready to share. I do want to learn everything there is to know about you, but I realize that’s going to take time. Most importantly, I want you to relax. When you’re with me, I’ll take care of the stress and worries.”

  He has no idea how much his reassurance means to me. I simply nod and squeeze him tightly against me. He pulls back a bit and flashes me the most genuine smile. I know that he’s as happy as I am in this moment.

  “I want you to change into your pjs while I grab us some drinks, and I’ll meet you in that big, comfy bed in five minutes, okay?”

  “Deal. Would you mind grabbing me some water?”

  “Of course, anything for my devil woman,” he jokes as he turns to leave the room.

  Grabbing my overnight bag, I pull out the pale pink camisole and matching pink-and-navy-plaid pajama shorts that I brought with me. I quickly change into them and remove my bra to get completely comfortable. Crawling onto the bed, I situate myself on the side that I had sat on Sunday while we watched movies.

  Minutes later he comes back into the room carrying a tray with two waters and a bowl of ice cream. He places it delicately on the foot of the bed and then strides across the room to his dresser. Unable to take my eyes off him, I stare as he unbuttons his shirt and allows it slide over his shoulders onto the floor. Next, he steps out of his shoes before unfastening and unzipping his jeans, which also fall to a pile on the floor. As he stands in front of me in just a pair of light blue boxers, I’m pretty sure I whimper aloud at his impressive physique. I want nothing more than to allow my fingers and mouth to play his body like the fine-tuned instrument it is. I know that the music we will make together will be nothing short of brilliant.

  He pulls on a pair of pajama pants, similar to the ones he wore on Sunday and saunters back over to join me in the bed. Pulling the tray over to us, he hands me my glass of water and a coaster to set on the bedside table closest to me. He does the same, and then picks up the bowl of frozen yumminess.

  “I hope you like ice cream. This actually comes from a little creamery located in a small town called Brenham, Texas. When I started going to school there and had this for the first time, I fell in love,” he explains as he brings a spoonful of it to my mouth. “I order it online and have it overnighted here, just so I can have their Homemade Vanilla every night before I go to bed.”

  Parting my lips, I allow him to feed it to me and instantly I understand what he’s talking about. There’s no real way to explain the difference between it and other vanilla ice cream I’ve had except that it’s richer and more flavorful. It’s absolutely scrumptious. “Oh my, that’s delectable,” I tell him.

  He shovels a spoonful in his mouth next and nods in agreement. “Okay, we’re going to play a game. It’s kind of like twenty questions, but each time you answer a question that I ask, you get a bite of ice cream, and the same goes for me.” I shoot him a look of alarm; I’m not sure about this. “You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to, but you just skip out on your bite that round,” he further explains. “Plus, I promise nothing too intrusive tonight. This is just a great way for us to get to learn more about each other.”

  With the stipulation that I can pass on anything I don’t want to answer, I agree. I really want some more of that ice cream, not to mention I’m eager to find out more about Lucca. We start with easy questions like our favorite color (his blue, mine black), favorite foods (Italian for both of us), and place we’d most like to visit (London for me, Hawaii for him).

  On my next turn, I ask him to tell me about his first real kiss, which he does without hesitation. Then he asks me the first question that makes me consider passing.

  “Who was your first crush and how old were you?” he inquires innocently.

  Pausing briefly before deciding to answer, I respond with complete honesty. “It was the son of our housekeeper and I was thirteen.” He feeds me another bite, seemingly satisfied with the vague response

  “Tell me about the longest relationship you’ve had,” I take my turn.

  “I dated a girl named Lindsay for almost two years during my freshman and sophomore years of college.”

  “Why did you guys break up?”

  A pained look shoots across his face, but he quickly shakes his head and consumes another bite of ice cream. “Uh uh. My turn. I want to know the same thing — longest relationship?”

  “Ummm… define relationship.”

  “Dating exclusively or boyfriend/ girlfriend. I don’t want to know about any friends with benefits or fuck buddies,” he grumbles. “I may go hunt them down tonight.”

  “Well, that would be however long we’ve been us,” I reply embarrassed.

  “What do you mean?” he asks, obviously confused.

  I look down at my hands in my lap, hoping he’ll understand without me having to spell it out.

  “T
rina, what do you mean?” He uses his hand to tilt my chin back up.

  I look up at him through my eyelashes. “I don’t do relationships, Lucca. You would be the first.”

  Scooping a large bite onto the spoon, he lifts it to my lips. “Not would be — I am.”

  Tears of both sadness and joy prick the back of my eyes, and I fight them off with a smile. “I’m finished playing for tonight, if that’s okay?”

  “Can I ask one last question? If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to,” he requests.

  “Sure.”

  “Are you a virgin?” His voice is almost a squeak.

  I bust out laughing, partly because I can tell he was afraid to ask the question and partly because… well, because I’m not even close to being a virgin. “I’m not sure what you’re hoping for, but the answer is no. I lost my virginity when I was seventeen.”

  Relief settles over his face and he feeds me the last of the nearly-melted dessert. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? And look at everything we learned about each other. Now let’s get some sleep, my little devil woman.”

  After moving the bowl and tray off of the bed, he turns off the lamp and we both lie down in the dark. I feel kind of silly because I’m not sure if I should cuddle up to him or which way I should face — I suck at this stuff. But again, almost as if he can read my thoughts, his hands grab my hips and he drags me across the sheets until I’m snuggled tightly to his body. Smoothing my hair down, he brings his mouth to mine and kisses me softly yet passionately. I know for a fact that I haven’t felt this peaceful and relaxed in nearly a decade. I file everything to memory — the way his scent lingers in my nose, how perfectly his skin feels pressed against mine, the sugary, sweet taste of his lips, and the sound of his heart beating out a rhythm, a song only my soul can hear.

  “Goodnight, Mr. Ellis. Thank you for tonight. I won’t forget this for a long time.”

  “This is the first of many nights together.” He kisses my lips one more time. “Good night, Trina.”

  And he doesn’t disappear.

  It’s Friday evening and the Daniels Saunders’ story is still getting airtime on the local news stations. The governor’s office has placed him on a paid leave of absence pending further investigation of the situation; and his wife — as well as the mayor — have only spoken out to ask for privacy and understanding during this difficult time for their family. A tiny bit of guilt threatens to ruin my happiness, but I quickly swallow it back down, remembering that I didn’t force him to do anything he wasn’t more than willing to do. He actually approached me at the bar, knowing damn well what his intentions were. He’s deserves everything he gets, and I’ve done his wife a favor if she truly had no idea what a cheating slime ball he is.

  Feeling satisfied with the results of my first task, I focus on the next mission at hand. I pull up my laptop and begin to search through other employees that work in the governor’s office. I narrow it down to two candidates — the assistant budget director and the crisis coordinator — both of which appear to be under the age of fifty and are photographed with wedding rings on. I’m having a difficult time finding much information on their personal lives, so I call up Travis to do some reconnaissance.

  “Gorgeous girl, how are you?” he answers the phone.

  “I’m good, Trav. How about you?”

  “I’m just sitting here waiting for my dinner invitation that I was promised,” he says teasingly.

  “Mhmm. I bet you haven’t left your place since the last time we talked.”

  He laughs and retorts, “You know it, sweet thing. Is that why you’re calling today? Seeing when I’m free next? You know I keep a very busy calendar, Miss Kat.”

  “You’re such an ass,” I chuckle. “No, I’m actually calling because I have another job for you, if you’re interested?”

  “Always for you. Whatcha got?”

  I give him the names of both men and ask him to get me any information he can. We agree on a time allotment and price, and as we’re ending the call, I invite him over for dinner on Monday, telling him that he can bring the information then. I hang up the phone, hopeful that one of the two will work out for my plan, and get dressed to go out for the evening.

  Lucca and I are going out on our first official date tonight. I feel like we’re doing things a little bit backwards considering I’ve already spent the night at his house twice this week, but I’ve never been one to do things in the traditional style. I know it’s irrational and more than a bit silly, but I’ve never done something like this with someone that I really like so I’m a little nervous about going out in public with him. The more time I spend we spend together, the more I start to develop real feelings for him, and I’m cognitively trying to push past the mental and emotional road blocks that emerge from my deep-rooted fear of getting hurt.

  Taking a long look in the mirror before leaving, I realize he’s never seen me dressed up like this. I’m wearing a fitted, backless champagne-colored dress that hits about mid-thigh with matching strappy heels. I’ve styled my hair in a simple chignon with stray ringlets falling loosely around my face in order to show off the back of the dress. My opaque eye make-up highlights my bright blue irises and I’m wearing a thin coat of shimmery pink lipstick to accentuate my full lips. I hope that he appreciates the stylish and sophisticated Trina as much as he seems to like the effortless and comfortably-dressed one. Then I wonder what in the world it is about him that makes me even care, but I do — way more than I should.

  Our reservations are at 15 East at eight o’clock, and despite a somewhat heated argument with my driver, I get my way and take a taxi to the highly acclaimed sushi restaurant. Lucca is standing outside when the car pulls up, and I am in awe of how incredibly gorgeous he looks. Dressed in black slacks with a light blue dress shirt under a charcoal sports coat, his usually unkempt brown hair is somewhat tame and his often stubbly face is freshly shaved. After paying the driver, I exit the car and as soon as he sees me his radiant smile greets me. Those damn butterflies that I always read and hear about have apparently taken up residence in my stomach, and I rather like the way they make me feel — they’re welcome to stay a while.

  Rushing over to me, he slips his arms around my waist and draws me into him. “You truly are exquisite, Miss Foster,” he whispers as he lightly kisses me just below the ear.

  Goose bumps jacket my delicate skin his warm breath glides over it. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself, Mr. Ellis,” I reply. “I’m more than impressed.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” He releases me from his embrace and grabs my hand, leading me towards the door. “Are you hungry? Let’s go in.”

  Grinning ear-to-ear, I happily shadow him to the building; however, just before I walk through the glass door a familiar black SUV turning the corner catches my eye. I pause briefly and look at the New Jersey plates to confirm my suspicion. Sighing internally, I turn around and redirect my attention to Lucca and focus on having an enjoyable dinner.

  Two bottles of sake and nearly three hours later, we’re nestled into a corner table lost in our own little world, thoroughly appreciating each other’s company. Conversation between the two of us flows effortlessly, and the delicious seven course tasting menu that we both ordered doesn’t disappoint. We casually mention to our server that we’re on our first date and the manager brings us over a complimentary piece of their bittersweet chocolate cake and soba ice cream. We’re both delighted with the thoughtful service, and of course the unexpected sweets.

  He teases as he feeds me a bite of the dessert. “This is pretty good, but it’s no Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla.”

  Laughing softly, I shake my head. “No, you’re right; it’s not. And it’s not nearly as fun when we aren’t playing Twenty Questions to go along with it.”

  He smirks at my response. “Ah, so you actually enjoyed baring your secrets to me?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I haven’t minded what we’ve talked about so far.” I sti
ck my finger in the cold ice cream and dab it on the end of his nose with a giggle. “My favorite part is learning more about you, though.”

  “You are a little devil! I can’t believe you did that!” Using his napkin, he cleans his face, and I love that he can’t stop smiling. “I should spank you for that later,” he says in a low voice.

  “Spank me? You must be drunk; there’s no way in hell I’d let you do that,” I retort.

  A thoughtful expression crosses his face and he leans in closer to me. “Have you ever been spanked, Trina? As an adult that is?”

  “Uh, that would be a negative. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m not real comfortable around most people. And you already know that I’ve never had a serious relationship, so what would make you think that I’d allow some stranger to spank me? I like to be in control at all times — giving someone the go-ahead to slap my bare ass as hard as they can doesn’t really fit in what I’ve got going.”

  He sits back in his chair and thinks intently for a moment without speaking. Then he raises his hand to my face and tucks a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my chin. His eyes pierce into mine as he states matter-of-factly. “I want to spank you. Tonight.”

  “Did you not just hear me? No one is spanking me.” I feel like I should be outraged and incensed with his obvious disregard for my request, or non-request in this case. However, my body isn’t on the same page as my brain because the butterflies from earlier in the night have morphed into baby dragons that are flapping around wildly and breathing their fire directly in the area where my thighs meet.

  “Yes, I heard you, but I also saw the blush creeping up your neck and the tips of your ears when I first mentioned it.” His voice has dropped several octaves and it’s like he’s bypassing the logical part of my brain completely and talking directly to my hormones. “And when I said the word ‘tonight,’ you started squirming around in your seat as those panties grew wet, all merely at the thought of me smacking that tight little ass of yours.”