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Risky Pleasures
ISBN # 978-1-78184-365-9
©Copyright McKenna Jeffries and Aliyah Burke 2013
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2013
Edited by Rebecca Douglas
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-sizzling and a sexometer of 1.
This story contains 101 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 9 pages.
McKingley
RISKY PLEASURES
McKenna Jeffries and Aliyah Burke
Book three in the McKingley series
After years of attraction, is it worth the risk?
Delicia Wright is an EMT in her hometown of McKingley, New Mexico. A confident young woman who could handle anything life threw at her, or so she believed. How conveniently she forgot the one man in town who could turn her into a babbling idiot. He was a hard man to forget, but she managed to put him in the back of her mind, along with all her fantasies of the two of them.
Archer Bennett is a through and through blue-collar man who has callouses on his hands and—most of the time—grease under his nails. He knows hard work. Unfortunately for him, the woman he desires above all else was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and to some of her family he would always be ‘the boy from the wrong side of the tracks’. So for now, all he can do is observe her from a distance.
When the opportunity arises he makes known his attraction to her and is ecstatic to know she feels the same. But with interfering family and a past that seems destined to return and bite him, can Archer convince her the best pleasures are risky pleasures?
Dedication
To my big sis your strength and grace makes you my hero. With you by my side I know anything is possible.
—McKenna Jeffries
To all the unsung heroes, thank you, for all that you do. To my husband and friends who always have the encouragement when I need it most.
—Aliyah Burke
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
The Black Eyed Peas: The Black Eyed Peas
Ferrari: Ferrari S.p.A.
Jeep: Chrysler Group LLC
Coke: The Coca Cola Company
Ninja: Kawasaki Heavy Industries, Ltd.
CL600: Mercedes-Benz
Chapter One
Delicia Wright kept her breathing even as she pounded along the trail. The early spring air helped her stay cool and, given the low humidity in New Mexico, the sweat dried almost immediately. A swift glance to the watch on her right wrist told her she was on pace with her self-imposed time.
Seven more miles to go. Come on, we can do this, she gave herself the usual pep talk. The upbeat music of The Black Eyed Peas played in her ears as she continued the remainder of her fifteen mile run. She could feel her body begin to tremble with exhaustion.
Suck it up, Delicia. If you wanted easy, we wouldn’t be training for a triathlon.
She lost herself in the rhythmic feel of her feet stomping along the hard-packed dirt trail. Tired, hot and sweating, she checked her time when she reached the end of her run. Hands on her hips, she walked herself around to cool her body down. This was her year to do better. She’d trained harder than ever before, going farther than the actual triathlon would be.
It was three months away. And I’m ready. A satisfied smile turned up her lips as she moved to her bike. She entered the combination before unfastening the cable from where it secured her bike to the tree then stowed it before slowly straddling the bicycle. Delicia fastened her helmet and sighed. She pulled her water bottle from the back of her jersey, drank some then placed the container on the bike.
“Time to get home for a shower. And some food.”
She removed one ear bud to hear traffic. Foot on the pedal, she pressed on it and looked up when a large truck drove by, then backed up to turn in the entrance to the pull off for the trailhead. She stared at the vehicle when it pulled before her. A white quad cab Dodge Dually. Shit!
The passenger window lowered and she found herself staring at a man who’d always made her feel like a babbling idiot. Archer Bennett. Country music poured from the cab and she fought off a shiver when he dipped his head to the side, exposing those damnable indigo eyes of his from behind his dark brown hair. Not black like a lot of people thought—it was just very dark brown.
Delicia hadn’t any clue why he affected her this way. It was just how it was.
“Mornin’, Delicia,” he said, in that unhurried way of his which never failed to make her toes curl and skin tingle.
Dah-lish-a was how it sounded—damn near X-rated coming from his mouth. Almost everyone else called her Lis. Not him. The rare times they ran into each other and he would speak to her, it was Delicia.
“Archer,” she replied.
He remained silent while his gaze travelled over her sweaty body. Before she knew what had happened, he stood before her. Six feet tall, hard muscular body, dark brown hair and those blue eyes. His torn jeans moulded to his legs and he wore a white shirt, which only amplified his tanned skin and the strength of his upper body.
“Come on,” he uttered.
She stared at his hand. Long, strong fingers, short, square nails. Swallowing, she looked back up at him.
“What?”
“You look like you’re about to fall over. I’m giving you a ride home. Now either get off the bike or I’ll remove you from it.”
A thousand things ran through her mind to say. She should protest. She should stay on the bike just to have him put his hands upon her. But she didn’t. With a nod, she got off the bicycle and removed her helmet. Archer stepped forward, effortlessly lifted it and carefully placed it in the bed of his truck. Then he took the helmet and dropped it in there as well.
“Get in,” he said, without looking back at her.
Delicia didn’t move, just stared at the way he filled out his jeans. Her core temperature skyrocketed. Heart pounding even faster than before, she licked her lips and barely stopped herself from stepping closer and touching him—just to see if he was truly as hard as he looked.
He looked over his shoulder at her and in the depths of his eyes she saw a sparkle. It’s like he knows I was checking him out. Archer turned completely and leaned against the side of his truck, crossing his arms. A move which highlighted the strength in them.
“Something on your mind, Delicia?”
Hell yeah. A lot. Like you n’ me doing the hor
izontal mambo right here. Or even in the back of your truck.
She shrugged and shook her head. “Nope.” Swallowing her fear she asked, “Should there be?”
A flame flickered in his eyes before he sent her a slow, sensual grin. “Could be. Come on, I have to get to work.”
A sharp retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it back. She truly was exhausted and appreciated the ride. He held the front door for her and she walked towards him.
“Thank you,” she said, slipping past him and onto the leather seat.
“My pleasure.” His murmured reply followed her in.
Archer closed the door and was soon positioned behind the wheel. She buckled herself in while he did the same and smoothly shifted into gear to get them back on the road towards McKingley.
A few miles passed in silence and Delicia spent the time wishing she weren’t damp with sweat, and that she had the ability to talk to him without sounding like a total moron. It didn’t make sense—she never seemed to have this issue with any other man. Richer men than Archer. Men in top of the line suits. Cover model types, it didn’t matter. But along came Archer in his torn jeans, grease-smeared shirt, hiking boots and baseball cap, and suddenly she couldn’t say more than four words without sounding like an idiot.
Archer Bennett was the owner of the largest towing company in McKingley—Bennett’s Towing. It was also an auto shop. He had been working there since forever and had been driving a tow truck since he was sixteen. When he turned twenty-four—four years ago—his father had retired and he’d taken over. She couldn’t help but be impressed by the way he’d worked so damn hard for what he’d accomplished.
Archer Bennett was a frequent visitor to her dreams, but Delicia hadn’t ever told anyone. She was three years younger than him and he’d been someone she’d admired from afar. When she’d gone to school functions, he hadn’t been able to attend because he’d gone home to work. She took a deep breath and fought the urge to squirm as the scent of Archer filled her nose.
“Delicia?” Archer’s warm, silvery voice broke into her wandering thoughts.
“Huh?” Yep. Did I say I sound like an idiot around this man?
“I asked if you were going to your house or wanted me to drop you off somewhere else.”
“Umm. Let’s go home.” Heat flared up her cheeks. “The house. I mean, take me to my house.”
“Your house it is,” he uttered.
Delicia looked out of the window and prayed her embarrassment would fade. What is it about him? After a few more miles with only the music as a buffer against the quiet between them, she glanced at him. Her heart pounded harder and she felt a bit short of breath.
His left hand was on the wheel, his arm against the door. His right hand rested upon his leg while his bow-shaped lips moved as he sang quietly along with the music. Brown hair hung around his chiselled features giving him a rakish look. He had long curled lashes, then there were his eyes. Indigo. A vibrant, deep indigo.
“Hmm,” he said turning so their eyes met. “You’re staring again. Trying to make me self-conscious?”
She dropped her gaze. “No. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to apologise for.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for the gearshift and curve those long fingers about the red flame on black knob. What would his hands feel like on me? Lifting her head, she noticed he was pulling into her driveway. Wait, how does he know where I live? Capturing her lower lip in her teeth, she unbuckled her belt and slipped from the interior, seconds after he put it in neutral and set the brake. She heard the door close as he got out of the truck.
“Let me get it,” he muttered from behind her.
She held her breath when he brushed up against her. Synapses fired out of control and she fought to keep from sinking to the ground. With apparent ease, he lifted the bike out from the back and placed it on the ground beside her. Then he hung her helmet over the handlebar.
Delicia took a deep breath and looked at him. His intense eyes were focused on her face. Invite him in! Opening her mouth to do just that, another voice interfered.
“Lis! You okay?”
Archer’s gaze shuttered and around the truck came her cousin, Justin.
“You?” Justin demanded. “What are you doing here?”
“Dropping her off.” Archer’s voice had about as much warmth in it as Justin’s did.
I didn’t know they knew each other. Waiting for Archer’s gaze, she gave him a slight smile. “Can I offer you a drink?”
His eyes softened slightly before becoming distant. “No, thank you. I have to get to work. Perhaps a rain check?”
“I’d like that.” I’d like a whole lot of things when it comes to you, Archer Bennett. She licked her lips. “Thanks again for the lift back.”
“Anytime.”
He nodded once, glared at Justin then walked to the driver’s side and got in. She didn’t move until his diesel truck backed out of her drive and he’d disappeared down the road.
“What were you doing with him?” Justin drilled her as she pushed her bike to the open garage.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Justin. He gave me a ride home. I’m kind of exhausted, you know. It’s not a flippin’ cake walk training for this triathlon.”
He waved away her tirade. “You need to stay away from him.”
Leaning her bike against the wall, she turned to face her cousin, bristling in defence of the man who’d been in her thoughts for longer than she cared to remember. “You need to not tell me what to do. Besides, Archer is perfectly nice.”
“He’s not right for you, Lis.”
Hands on hips, she glared. “So because you think that, I should have turned down the offer of the ride and biked my ass home? What’s your problem with him anyway?”
Justin narrowed his eyes. “I have to go. I only stopped by to drop something off for you, it’s on the kitchen table. Don’t forget what I said. Keep away from him.”
Jaw clenched, she watched him climb into his Ferrari and drive away. “Jackass,” she muttered before heading inside the house, closing the garage on the way. She was normally very even keeled, and it took a lot for people to upset her, but Delicia was not pleased with her cousin’s highhanded attempt to tell her who she could and couldn’t be around. Especially with the way derision had dripped from his tone when he’d talked about—and to—Archer.
“Not like I’m good at talking to the man, but hell, if I could conquer that fear I’d be all over him.”
Archer Bennett was on her mind as she took a long hot shower and got dressed for work.
* * * *
Archer ‘Risk’ Bennett watched Delicia in his rear-view mirror until he could no longer see her. She faced his direction as he drove away. Her toffee skin gleamed in the morning light, her white and purple bike jersey highlighted the mouth-watering curves of her body. He groaned and shifted on the seat. All he’d wanted to do was take her honey-hued, bone straight hair down from the ponytail it was in and let it run all over his skin as he made long, slow love to her.
Seeing her this morning at one of the trailheads, he’d had to stop. Delicia Wright was the only woman in town who could get under his skin. Not that she would know it—they rarely ran into each other.
Her family’s name was pretty much synonymous with founding the town in conjunction with the McKingley family, for whom the town was named. He wasn’t even close to her social circle. Not that that stopped his fantasies of her. And as a whole, the majority of the Wright’s all seemed to be in professions dedicated to helping people. But on the rare occasion, he ran into one like Justin Wright—couldn’t stand the man for more than a few reasons. Shaking off the ugly feelings Justin brought to his mind, Archer thought about Delicia again. She remained in his thoughts until he pulled into the large lot his business was on. He groaned when he spotted his father’s truck there.
“Crap. What’s he doing here?”
Parking his truc
k, he got out and headed for the door, putting on his ball cap as he walked. He pushed through the door and entered the building, his nose assaulted by the scent of strong coffee and his ears by the sounds of Marty Robbins.
“Mornin’, Pa.”
“Archer.” His father lifted the mug in his hand by way of greeting.
“What are you doing here?” He poured himself a cup of java. “Thought the purpose of retiring was so you weren’t here.”
“Am I not allowed to come in and see my business?”
Facing his father, Archer said, “It’s mine, Pa, and that doesn’t answer my question of what you’re doing here.”
The salt-and-pepper haired man shifted in the seat he occupied and Archer narrowed his eyes and waited for the bomb to drop. It wasn’t long in coming.
“Your mom called this morning. She wants to see you.”
“And she called you why?”
“You don’t return her calls.”
Archer sipped some hot coffee and shrugged without remorse. “She abandoned us. Why should I bother with her?”
“Well, she’s coming to visit and wants to see you. Apparently she’s bringing her new boyfriend along as well.”
Staring at his father, Archer waited to see if there was any lingering pain when discussing his ex-wife. There was nothing. Apparently he was the one holding a grudge, not his dad. He’d always admired his father for doing what he had to and not becoming a bitter old man. But for him personally, his mother had ceased to exist—no cards, calls, nothing until he took over the business. Since then, Victoria Cross had done nothing but try to reconnect with him.
“When does she claim she is coming?”
She’d been leaving him messages for over two years saying she was coming for a visit. Even given dates of when she would arrive on a few of them. She had yet to actually show up. He briefly wondered if her calling his father actually meant she was going to come. Not that it mattered. He didn’t want anything to do with her, and if he had to, he would tell her to her face.
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