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

by Rachel Harris

  The moment her feet touched the ground, she was running. She only slowed inside so she didn’t terrify her parents. Luckily, their hearing wasn’t quite what it used to be, and by speed walking on tiptoe, she was able to dash down the hall and into her room without sounding an alarm. Leaning her head against the closed bedroom door, Angelle released a shaky breath and declared, “Holy crap, I’m about to have sex.”

  She blinked once, twice, three times. Then, with a wide smile stretched across her face, she pushed off the door.

  Grabbing a huge duffel bag from inside her closet, she ran around tossing items inside. “Flashlight, sex CD, fuzzy socks in case it gets cold…” Folding her rather large comforter proved to be a bit of a challenge, but it was part of the fantasy. Plus, she really didn’t want to lie on dirt or splintered wood. Splinters in the butt did not say sexy to her.

  Under the sink in her bathroom was a treasure trove of scented candles. Grabbing the four nearest, she shoved them inside along with a lighter, then scurried back to her room. All she was missing was protection and wardrobe. Thanks to her embarrassing, fabulous roommate, she had both. Sliding open the drawer, Angelle dug out the string of silver packets from where she’d buried them days ago, so sure she’d never have a use for them. A laugh bubbled in her throat as she added them to her bag, then she turned back and stared at her costume options.

  Green lace, black leather, purple silk. Without a doubt, the black leather screamed Cane Robicheaux. The problem was it didn’t scream Angelle. She’d feel like an imposter. One that could likely end up chafed in an uncomfortable spot. Nix the leather.

  It was a tough call between the remaining two. While she loved purple, and the feel of silk was divine, Sherry had said green was Angelle’s color. It matched her eyes, set off her hair, and the lace felt naughty against her fingertips. That could work.

  Stripping out of her jeans and blouse, Angie contorted, wiggled, and adjusted herself into the lingerie. Prior to this, the sexiest thing she’d ever worn was a Victoria’s Secret nightgown. Lacey had bought her the nightie when she graduated—and it’d had considerably more fabric.

  Daring a glance into the mirror, her eyes widened. She may as well be naked! Granted, that was the designer’s point, but staring at her reflection it suddenly became very real what she was about to do. And who she was about to stand in front of in this uber-revealing getup.

  Shaking her hands, Angelle blew out a breath. She cracked her neck and nodded at the mirror. “I can do this,” she told herself. “I’m fearless.” She turned to the side, glimpsed her exposed backside, and winced. “I’m one sexy, redheaded bitch.”

  Angie rolled her eyes at how unsexy she sounded. The girls Cane usually slept with probably didn’t require pep talks in the mirror before getting it on. Picking up her hairbrush, she fluffed and teased her hair. A dab of cherry lip gloss, a pinch of the cheeks, one squirt of perfume, and a silk robe later, she was ready. Or as ready as she would ever be.

  Footsteps bouncy with anxiety and anticipation, she made it back down the hall as quietly as when she’d entered. She carefully pried opened the front door. Cane was just where she’d left him, sitting in his truck, the engine off. His head was leaned back against the seat, and she briefly wondered if he’d fallen asleep. That would be a definite mood killer. But at the click of the front door closing, he bolted straight up.

  It was cold. Angelle was wearing a skimpy, silk robe and lace underneath. But she was sweating. She wished that in her rush to begin the sexy times that she would’ve remembered the porch light. Shadows still filled the cab and clung to his face, hiding any hint of his expression.

  Was his gaze appreciative, or disappointed?

  Had she taken too long to get ready? Had she totally misread the situation?

  Could he have possibly changed his mind?

  Cane was a man—an extremely sexual man—so Angie doubted it. But then, this was happening to her, and Murphy’s Law defined her life, so anything was possible. Thankfully, before she could drive herself completely insane with questions, Cane’s door opened. Soon his long-legged stride carried him over the drive to where she stood, practically shaking, on the top step of the porch. His gaze traveled over every inch of her frame, from the top of her head, to her red-painted toenails, and then back up.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Nerves had her smirking, brushing the compliment aside. But Cane shook his head and brought his finger to the side of her face. Slowly, he glided it over the swell of her cheek and down the sensitive skin of her throat. “Most. Beautiful.”

  Angelle forgot all about the chill in the air, thanks to the heat in his eyes. He wanted this to happen as badly as she did. He wanted her.

  “I’m not a saint,” he told her, cupping his hand around her neck. His thumb lightly teased the indent where her pulse fluttered. “I’ve been with a lot of women. But none of them has ever gotten to me the way you have. You’re under my skin, angel.”

  His words made her shiver, and Cane shrugged out of his leather jacket. Almost reverent eyes glued to hers, he placed the jacket warmed by his body heat around her shoulders, enveloping Angelle with her favorite scent. The small, chivalrous gesture spoke volumes as to the kind of lover he would be, and it gave her the courage to say, “Follow me to the barn.”

  Cane raised a dark eyebrow. Angelle felt a naughty smile twist her lips, daring him to argue. With a matching grin, he took her duffel bag, and then her hand, and fell into step beside her. “I’ll follow you anywhere, hellcat.”

  Harsh gravel gave way to soft grass as they crept around the side of the house. Under her bare feet, the soft, damp earth tickled. The air she drew into her lungs crackled with awareness. Being with Cane was a sensory explosion—and the night hadn’t even begun.

  Imagining what sex with him would be like gave her true palpitations. Fainting was suddenly a real possibility.

  Dear God, please don’t let me faint.

  Dappled moonlight reflected off the old barn and once they reached it, Cane stopped outside the entrance. “What now, angel?”

  She glanced at the site for her seduction plans and sank her teeth into her lip. She still needed to set things up. With a wince she replied, “Mind waiting a few more minutes?”

  His eyes crinkled as he chuckled. This was so not going as she’d planned.

  Part of her considered abandoning her fantasy altogether, but Angie knew she’d regret it. There could be no do-overs, no second chances. You only lose your virginity once. And tonight, she wanted no regrets. “It’s just…I want everything to be perfect. For us. I kind of have a thing prepared…that’s why I brought the bag.” She fiddled with the belt on her robe and added, “It’ll only take a second, I promise.”

  Cane grinned and slid the bag off his massive shoulder. “A thing, huh? Gotta tell you, I never took you for the kinky type.” Angelle’s face flamed as he handed the bag back, and he placed a knuckle under her chin. Gaze soft but serious he said, “I was teasing you, darlin’. Whatever you need to make tonight the best you’ve ever had, I’m down for it.”

  The best I’ve ever had. That should be easy to accomplish.

  A pang of worry hit at the thought, but she brushed it aside, quickly leaning up and kissing his cheek. “It won’t take long.” Then, before she lost her nerve—or revealed her secret too soon—she bolted inside.

  Tugging out the flashlight she’d packed, Angelle clicked it on and easily made her way toward the ladder Ryan had built. As she carefully navigated over the broken step, lugging her bag of essentials to the loft, an annoying voice preached inside her head.

  You need to tell him you’re a virgin, it hissed. And sooner rather than later.

  “I will tell him,” she hissed back, throwing her bag over the top rail. “Just…not yet. This is huge. On the off-chance Cane decides it’s too huge and calls it off, I at least want to get a hint of the good stuff. Maybe even round a few bases. Then I’ll tell hi
m.”

  She waited a moment, but no further scolding came. Shoulders back, she set to work.

  Angie spread the comforter over a pile of hay and dust, then placed candles at strategic spots around the loft, maximizing mood yet avoiding the unsexy risk of burn. After lighting the wicks, she grabbed the ancient boom box she’d kept up there since she was eleven and plugged it in. The final touch was sliding in her sex CD.

  It was old school—no iPods for her—but then she was kind of old school, too.

  Looking around the softly lit loft, she realized her fantasy had come to life. Everything was exactly how she’d pictured it. And the mystery man from her vision finally had a face. One that was handsome as hell. With the room arranged and no further reason to stall, Angelle cleared her throat. “I’m ready!”

  Heavy footsteps immediately drew near. Angelle quickly slipped off Cane’s leather jacket, followed by her silk robe, then directed the flashlight’s beam toward the ladder. “Up here,” she called, glancing around again in a sudden panic.

  Should she pose?

  Lie down on the comforter, or stand with her hip jutted and boobs thrust out?

  Why hadn’t she asked Sherry more questions?

  Spinning in a circle, she surveyed her options and decided to go with the makeshift bed. Beds screamed passion, right? Hitting play on the stereo, Angie collapsed to the floor and squirmed to find the perfect seductive pose that said, Come and get me.

  Cane’s footsteps reached the ladder as the intro to “Crash Into Me” by Dave Matthews Band began. A noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle came from below. But then, all she cared about was that it came from just below.

  “Watch the broken third step,” she advised, her voice pitched much higher than normal, as heat flashed over her skin. Each creak that followed meant he was getting closer, until finally, his head peeked above the stairs.

  He grinned. “Did you make a sex mixed tape?”

  “Maybe.” Cane’s grin widened as he took the last step, pulling himself up onto the loft, and she admitted, “Okay, yes, I did. I made a sex tape.”

  When a full smile broke across his face, Angie realized how that had sounded. “No! I mean a mixed tape. A music tape. I made a musical mixed tape for sex.”

  Awkward Angie for the win.

  She blew out a breath, wishing that for just once in her life she could do something important and not make a fool of herself. Lifting her hands to encompass the room, she said, “This is the thing.” Angelle shrugged a shoulder as she dropped her arms to fiddle with her see-through outfit. “You’re kind of fulfilling a fantasy for me.”

  Cane glanced around, but his gaze quickly returned. Hot eyes traced the lines of her body and the thick knot in his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Angel, it’s you who are fulfilling mine.”

  Boom. Any doubts that may’ve lingered were blown straight to hell. Stark honesty shone on his face and sincerity rang in his voice. This was right. It felt right. Finally, the trifecta she’d been waiting for—passion, excitement, and that gut-level truth—was all in one package. And what made it even better (though she’d never admit it aloud, at least not yet) was that Angie realized she’d fallen head over boots in love with him.

  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.