Seven Day Fiance: A Love and Games Novel (Entangled Bliss) (15 page)

Feeling more confident, more daring than she ever had before, Angelle skimmed her nail over the lace edge of her bodice. Cane’s eyes hungrily followed the movement, and she grinned. “Then what are you waiting for?”

…

Holy hell.
He’d unleashed a vixen. A fiery, flirtatious, sexy as shit, vixen. And damn, did she take his breath away. Stepping out of his boots, Cane left them near the ladder as he slowly made his way to the bed his angel had set out.

Candlelight, corny music, sex in a hayloft…he would’ve thought he’d entered a poorly scripted Skinemax movie had it not been for the woman on the blanket. This scene fit Angelle. And while slow and sweet wasn’t what he’d had in mind, he’d be glad to make her fantasy come true. Especially since it implied no one else had.

Sinking to his knees beside her, Cane ran his hand over the creamy skin of her thigh. “This is your night, angel. Tell me what you want.”

Desire sparked in those haunting green eyes. Pushing to a kneeling position she said, “You, Cane. Just you.” Then, fisting the cotton of his shirt in her hands, she yanked him forward.

Angelle’s hot mouth slammed into his. Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once. Tugging at his shirt. Fumbling with his belt. Pulling him closer. She attacked with an almost crazed intensity. Aggressive. Wild. The hellcat had most definitely come out to play.

And Cane loved it.

He slid his tongue along the column of her throat. A voice in his head warned to dial it back. To slow things down. But he told that voice to go to hell. Angie’s whimpers and moans were much better guides.

“Right here,” he told her, knotting his fingers in her hair so he could look in her eyes. “
This
is my fantasy. Breathing you in, holding you in my arms. Hearing you moan my name.” Another moan escaped, and he grinned. Ducking his head, he whispered against her ear, “And it’s about to get a whole lot better.”

Pushing to his feet, he reached back and yanked his shirt over his head. As Cane made quick work of his jeans, his skin prickled from the hunger in Angelle’s focused gazed. He tossed his clothes in a pile near his shoes and turned back, eager to pick up where they’d left off.

Angelle’s eyes widened.

Cane paused, watching as she licked her lips. Her gaze dipped to his black boxer briefs and bounced away. As he walked back, a nudge that something was off messed with his head. But he ignored it. Sinking down beside her, he slid her hair to one shoulder and pressed a kiss against her skin. She shivered. “Everything okay?”

“Mmm hmm.” Angelle nodded and her lips made a smacking sound. “Perfect.”

Chalking the weird vibe up to nerves, he tugged the thin straps of her lingerie off her shoulders. Goose bumps trailed his kisses down her arm and over her collarbone. Every inch of Angelle was soft. And she smelled so damn good. Reaching around her back, Cane flicked the clasp on her top.

She gasped and stiffened in his arms.

This time, an alarm rang inside his head.

“Hey, we’ll go slow.” He drew lazy circles over the soft skin of her shoulders, wanting to assure her. Had he moved too fast? He didn’t think so, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to mess this up now. “We’ve got all night.”

Angelle shook her head and then smiled. “No, it’s good. I’m good.”

Her eyes held a different story. Slowing things down, wanting the vixen back, Cane sought her mouth. He kissed her long and deep, and as he’d hoped, she melted in his arms. He waited until she became restless, squirming and seeking more. Then, while his tongue teased hers, Cane pulled the lace down.

Hands aching to move, to touch, Cane clenched the fabric, waiting for resistance. Instead, Angie squirmed again. He grinned against her mouth and whispered, “There’s my hellcat.”

She wiggled closer, leaning her body nearer his hand, and Cane was happy to oblige. Brushing his knuckles against the swell of her breasts, he teased her, knowing what she wanted. And when she moaned a plea into his mouth, he finally cupped them in his hands. Lowering his head, he licked a wet line in the valley between them, and as she shuddered and writhed, her head fell back as she exclaimed, “Oh, God.”

That damn alarm in his head got louder.

Cane wanted her responsive. He wanted her to enjoy his touch. But something felt…off.

Leaning back, he stared into her dazed eyes. Angelle’s cheeks were flushed, her lips red from his kisses, and when her gaze flicked to his briefs, he saw wonder cross her face.

“Angel?”

That was all he said, but she froze. Looking away, she closed her eyes, seeming to understand his unspoken question. Time stopped. What he was thinking couldn’t be possible. There had to be another explanation. But when her eyes opened, and she turned back with a face full of fear and hope, the warning bell rang so loud it nearly drowned out the words, “I’m a virgin.”

She didn’t say anything else. Neither did he. Her sex soundtrack switched over to Maroon 5’s “She Will Be Loved
,
” but other than the song, the barn was silent. Angelle watched him, eyes growing rounder, teeth sinking so far into that bottom lip he feared she’d draw blood. But all he could do was kneel there. In shock.

This was way deeper than Cane ever intended. He’d never been anyone’s first before, but he knew what it meant. What it would do. This wouldn’t just be a fun night or a sexy fantasy. This would bond them emotionally, more than they already were. It would let her in on an intimate level, a soul-deep level, which was much more than he’d bargained for.

Besides that, taking Angelle’s virginity would be a dick move. There was no other way to look at it. Later he’d try to figure out how in the hell she could possibly still be a virgin, but right now, all he knew was that only an asshole would take something she’d obviously been saving. As much as he wanted this to happen—and
damn
, did he want it to—it wouldn’t be right. Doing so would almost guarantee her pain. And that went against every vow and promise he’d made to himself as a man.

“I think—”

“No, Cane. Whatever you’re about to say, hear me out first, okay?” Placing her palm on his cheek, she forced him to look at her. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not drunk or misguided. I’m not breakable, or a saint, or untouchable, either. This isn’t a religious thing or some random pledge I took. It just never felt right.” A look of determination crossed her face and she leaned in to kiss him, hard. Pulling back she said, “Now it does. I
want
you to be my first. Please…make love to me?”

Shit.
How in the hell could he say no to that? Especially when every part of him wanted the same damn thing.

This was a fork in the road. There’d be no going back from this decision. But he could no more deny her than he could deny himself.

Ignoring the voice screaming in his head, muting the ringing alarm, and flipping off the caveman thrill of knowing he’d be her first, Cane cupped her shoulders. “I’ll make it good for you. I promise.”

A beautiful, knowing smile broke across her face as she said, “I’m counting on it.”

…

Only one of Angelle’s candles remained lit. All the others had burned out. They’d exhausted every song on her sex soundtrack—
twice
—and then passed out. Thankfully without setting the barn on fire. Stretching his neck, Cane looked down at the woman asleep in his arms, a sated smile still curving her swollen mouth. He ducked his head and kissed it.

A happy sigh of contentment escaped her parted lips as she curled into his side. Cane waited a moment to see if she was awake, then, convinced she was down for the count, grabbed the edge of the blanket and threw it over their bodies. He stared at the support beams overhead and inwardly cursed.

He’d screwed up.

He’d taken her virginity. He’d sensed she felt more for him than she should, but he’d done it anyway. This hadn’t been a casual hookup for Angelle. She would never forget tonight—and now, neither would he.

Guilt and protectiveness warred with a mounting sense of dread. It was true he hadn’t forced her into anything. And he’d made no promises for the future. So really, tonight should be no different from any other night he’d spent with a willing woman. And Angelle
had
been willing. He’d been ready to walk, and she’d convinced him to stay.

None of that made him feel any less like an ass.

Angelle’s weight sank more into him and her lips made a soft smacking noise. Her breaths were slow and even. Clearly, she wasn’t wasting time overthinking things. She wasn’t lying there, asking for forever. Maybe this was all him. Once he got his head straight, maybe everything would be fine. They’d finish up the ruse as planned, then leave in a few days as friends. Good friends who happened to know each other really well.

Cane’s guilt lessened a fraction, and he pressed his lips against her hair.

Her drowsy head shifted. “Is it morning?” she asked, kissing the tattoo over his chest. A spot she’d shown a lot of special attention.

Chuckling, Cane tucked the blanket tightly around her gorgeous body. From the dim glow on the wood, he’d say it was just around dawn. “Go back to sleep. You have a long day ahead of you.” He smirked at the ceiling. “And you had a very adventurous night.”

Angelle laughed softly and pinched the skin along his rib cage. “Okay,” she said, snuggling against him. “But only for another hour or so.” She threw her leg over his hip, yawned long and loud, then, wrapping an arm around his waist, whispered, “Love you.”

Cane’s body turned to stone as Angelle’s soft snores filled the loft.

Chapter Fourteen

The main road leading out of Bon Terre had been foggy and empty. The interstate headed toward New Orleans wasn’t much different. Cane was driving home, jaw flexed, self-hate roiling in his gut, and only a smattering of cars had passed him on the highway. Everyone else was still in bed. Warm and sleeping, maybe making love. Wrapped around the person they cared about—like Cane should have been. Instead, he was alone in his truck, with nothing but disgust and shame to keep him company.

If he hadn’t been an asshole before, he sure as hell was one now.

Angelle Prejean loved him. Never could he have imagined a woman saying those words to him, much less a woman like her. She was the type of woman who could star in those sappy movies his sisters loved. Good, kind, adorable. Sexy as hell. And she deserved a man from those movies, the kind who could give her a Hollywood ending. The only thing Cane could offer was a good roll in the hay. But even though he’d known that all along, he’d still pursued her.

Angelle also deserved for her first time to have been with someone who would say those three words back. Who
could
say those three words back. Not an asshole who’d leave the moment the deed was done, treating her like she was a damn booty call.

Cane cursed under his breath.

Some cold-blooded shit. That’s what it was. She’d given him her virginity, and he’d taken off like a bat out of hell. Or like the asshole he’d proven himself to be.

The kicker was he didn’t even know
why
he’d left. It had been basic instinct. Angelle had whispered her sleep confession, passed out again, and then he’d bolted. No note, no explanation. Just took off, knowing the whole time he pulled on his clothes, slid on his shoes, and nearly busted his ass on the missing step of the ladder, that it was wrong. But he’d done it anyway. And now, it was too late. He’d been driving for almost two hours. He couldn’t undo his actions.

His right hand closed around the cell phone sitting in his lap. It hadn’t rung once. Surely she was awake by now, had realized he’d left. But she hadn’t called. He could do the honorable thing and call
her,
but what the hell would he say? Raking a hand through his hair, Cane thought about his next step. No way was he coming back from this. Maybe, eventually, Angelle would forgive him enough to tolerate his presence, but that friendship he’d wanted? That real, honest relationship he’d never had with a woman but had come to believe was something he
needed
in his life, at least when that woman was Angelle? That got blown to shit the second he walked out of the barn.

His mind fired up the image burned into his retinas that hours of driving hadn’t shook. When he’d first put his feet on the rung to leave, he’d hesitated for a brief second. In the glow of the flashlight, Angelle’s hair had shone like a fiery halo, and a soft smile had curved her mouth. An electrical jolt had hit his chest at just how perfect she was. Then she’d made a noise and shifted—and he’d fled.

Spying the sign declaring Magnolia Springs only thirty-five miles away, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

What in the hell was he doing?

He was leaving her to pick up the pieces, alone. Heartbroken and confused. He was letting down the entire town, not to mention all the kids hoping to see Papa Noel. And he was disrespecting the family who’d taken him in, against their better judgment, and who had reminded him of all the things he’d been missing.

Noting the upcoming exit, Cane flicked the turn signal and gunned the engine. It looked like he was becoming well acquainted with the interstate today.

He shook his head as he glanced at the clock. By the time he got back to Bon Terre, Angelle would be at the parade ground. The entire town would be there, too, believing God only knew what about him and their so-called engagement. But Cane didn’t care. He’d walk straight into the firing squad, knowing it was going to be awkward as hell, because that’s what a man did. The kind of man he wanted to be, and the kind of man he’d vowed to be.

He would find Angelle and explain. Apologize for his actions and for leading her on, and then pray she forgave him for hurting her. He’d get her to understand why he left even when
he
couldn’t.

And if she tells you to go to hell?

A sharp ache twisted in Cane’s chest. Right underneath the yin-yang tattoo Angelle loved so much.

If she refused to forgive him, then he’d have to accept it. But he wouldn’t let her down. He’d agreed to come on this trip and help her win over her hometown, and as long as his mother’s ring was on her finger, Cane was still her fake fiancé.

For better or worse, right?