The Innocence Series: Complete Bundle Read online

  THE INNOCENCE SERIES

  Complete Bundle

  * * *

  Amazon Kindle Edition

  Taste of Innocence © Riley Knight 2018.

  Touch of Innocence © Riley Knight 2018.

  Prayer of Innocence © Riley Knight 2018.

  Cover design by Ravishing Romance Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The author has asserted his/her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature readers.

  First LoveLight Press electronic publication: March 2019

  http://lovelightpress.com

  The Innocence Series is set in the USA and as such uses American English throughout.

  CONTENTS

  TASTE OF INNOCENCE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  EPILOGUE

  TOUCH OF INNOCENCE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  PRAYER OF INNOCENCE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY ONE

  TWENTY TWO

  TWENTY THREE

  TWENTY FOUR

  TWENTY FIVE

  TWENTY SIX

  EPILOGUE

  MORE FROM RILEY KNIGHT

  TASTE OF INNOCENCE

  ONE

  It wasn’t that he didn’t love his job because he did. It was the only thing Ben could even imagine doing, the only job that he’d ever really held ever since he was old enough to have it. The bar had been good to him, no doubt about it.

  It was just that some nights, when he’d been run off of his feet for hours, when he was exhausted and pretty much the only person who was even working, he also sort of hated it.

  The boss and owner, Tom, kept hiring these very pretty boys to be waiters, to help Ben out. They kept flaking out. It was a never-ending cycle.Ben had just watched the most recent, a little blond twink with sparkling green eyes and an ass that wouldn’t quit, walk right out the door just earlier today.

  On his own again, and surrounded by people demanding things from him. Sometimes just beer, but also screwdrivers, mimosas, fruity drinks. At least the patrons of the bar had slowed down enough that he could get some rest. Leaning against the counter, he gazed out at the small, but packed, little bar.

  It might be a gay bar, but it was still a bar in Texas, and Ben was pretty sure that if your average person did come in, they probably wouldn’t even know at first. The music was the same as at any other bar, and there were darts, a pool table, the usual.Of course, there were, from time to time, guys who would dance together, so that might tip this hypothetical visitor off, but that wasn’t a constant thing.

  When had the last time been that Ben had gotten a chance to dance? Shaking his head, he sighed and grabbed a cloth. The counter was pretty clean, but it never hurt to make it cleaner, and it made him feel like he was doing something.

  Slowly, he passed the cloth over the wooden surface, making it glisten in the low light. He had half of his eye on the game which played on several large television screens throughout the room, half his eye on the cleaning he was doing, and half his eye on the customers at the bar.

  That left him a whole half of an eye to notice when the door opened, and a stranger walked in.

  Not quite a stranger, maybe? The guy looked sort of familiar, but in a small town like this, it wasn’t exactly strange that Ben would have laid eyes on him before. To be honest, he wouldn’t mind doing more than laying eyes on this man.

  Everyone else was looking, too, and not just because of the rush of cool air that came in when the guy flung open the door. The smell of rain came in with him, and Ben rolled his eyes. Great. He was off in a few hours, and with his luck, it would still be pouring by then.

  The attention on this guy, it was from more than the weather he brought in with him. The rain had soaked through the trench coat he wore, and the rain droplets themselves shone like diamonds in his dark hair. More than that, even, there was a look of endearing confusion on his face as he gazed around the bar.

  Ben had seen a lot of beautiful people in his time. It went with the territory. This bar was the only gay bar for miles, so people came here if they didn’t want to make the trek to the big city. Many of them were not above flirting with the bartender to try to get free drinks.

  The guy stripped off his soaking wet coat, and as he made his way over the scuffed up wooden floors, Ben found that he couldn’t look away from him, and he had literally no idea why. Whatever it was, the rest of the patrons of the bar seemed to feel it too, and all conversation stopped.

  From his position, Ben had seen the soap operas. He had seen who was going home with who, who had broken who’s heart, who had moved on. He didn’t even have to pay a lot of attention, he just knew.

  New blood, though, that was something that didn’t happen nearly as often. Still, that really didn’t explain why no one could seem to stop gazing at the stranger, all five foot ten, dark-haired, full-lipped as he was.

  Those lips would make an angel jealous.

  The guy wore a suit under his coat, and he looked around, obviously nervous, like he had no idea why he was in this bar or how he’d gotten here, or what to do now that he was here. He glanced around, and he would have had to be pretty stupid not to notice that he was being watched.

  His eyes fell on Ben, and it was ridiculous, but Ben found himself straightening up his shoulders as he watched the man walk over to him. As he got closer, Ben saw that, de
spite his clothing, the guy was younger than he would have thought. Maybe just into his twenties.

  So, in short, far too young for Ben. Still, he didn’t have to marry the guy to enjoy looking at him, and look, he did. He kept it professional, but he did find the man gorgeous, no doubt about it.

  Now if only he could figure out why the guy looked so familiar. He had never seen him before in his bar. He knew that much. Hell, he wasn’t even sure that this man had been in a bar before in his life. There was something about his energy that made Ben think this might just be a new experience for the other man.

  “Hey,” Ben drawled, tossing down a coaster in front of the stranger. He wasn’t going to gawk like an idiot, unlike pretty much everyone else in the bar. He had a job to do. “What can I getcha?”

  “I don’t know.” The man had a voice which surprised Ben a little bit. It was deeper than he would have expected and slightly hoarse. Ben, very abruptly, found that he could imagine that voice saying dirty things to him, calling out his name as Ben gazed up from between the guy’s legs …

  Oh, damn it. Fantasizing about this guy could go nowhere good. But it was the force of the fantasy, as well as how unexpected it was, that really got to him. His cock was plumping up nicely, and he was glad for the counter in the way.

  “Beer?” Ben prompted. The guy seemed lost and just gave a helpless little shrug.

  “I don’t drink much,” the man admitted. “I just came in to ask if I could use the phone.”

  Somehow, that fit. The guy didn’t drink. Of course, this was not a part of the world where it was all that common a thing, but it made Ben surer than ever that the guy, however familiar he seemed, hadn’t been in here before.

  “Yeah, knock yourself out.” Ben grabbed the handset for the bar phone and tossed it over to the guy, who caught it with one hand. One beautiful hand, with slender fingers that would wrap perfectly around …

  What was it with this guy? Ben knew that he was not exactly chaste himself. Far from it, actually, he had quite the healthy sex drive, but something about this guy just seemed to throw that into overdrive, throw high-grade alcohol on a fire which was already prepared to burn out of control.

  He busied himself doing what he did best. He made a drink. Something fruity, he thought, so that he didn’t scare the guy off, and nothing with alcohol. A Shirley Temple, he decided. He was pretty sure he still remembered how to make that, and he got himself busy, keeping one eye on the guy as he stared at the phone.

  “It ain’t a snake, it won’t bite,” Ben offered helpfully when the stranger had just stood there staring at the receiver for a good thirty seconds or so. He set the drink down in front of the man, who looked at it quizzically, and then glanced up at Ben.

  It was dark in there, so Ben couldn’t know for sure. What color were those eyes? Not dark, he could tell that much. Green, maybe, or blue, but what shade? The light was too low for him to tell, and it was stupid, maybe, but he really did want to know.

  “Yeah.” Those eyes dropped back down to the drink. “What’s this?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not gonna corrupt you,” Ben teased lightly. “It’s got no booze in it. It’s a Shirley Temple.”

  “Ben! I want one of those, too,” Hank, one of the regulars, called out, and Ben smirked to himself. Hank was a big tough construction worker, and he wanted a Shirley Temple? Ben shook his head as he started to prepare another one, amused by the whole thing.

  The beautiful man at his bar sipped at his drink and seemed to like it well enough. As Ben half watched, the stranger finally dialed the phone and had a brief, terse conversation with whoever picked up on the other side.

  The music was too loud for Ben to hear what was said, but he supposed it was none of his business, anyway. Nor was he trying to eavesdrop, so he only picked up a few words.

  Something about the rain, and a car, he thought. And the guy said the word Dad more than once. Shaking his head, Ben turned back to his work, until the man got his attention and then held out the phone to him.

  “Thank you,” he said gravely, and Ben tried to tell himself he was not charmed by that simple politeness. Ben just nodded, though he tilted his head to the side curiously when he saw that the man was getting to his feet, leaving his drink mostly untouched.

  “Hey, you taking off already?” Ben asked, trying to sound like he was nothing more than friendly. Like he wasn’t already insanely curious, trying to figure out who this guy was, why he knew him.

  “I have to go sleep in the church,” the man said, and then Ben knew just who he was. This wasn’t just any good-looking young man, maybe straight or questioning, sneaking into the gay bar to see how life was on this side of the tracks.

  About six months ago, a new preacher had come to town, a real fire and brimstone type. He’d brought his family with him, his wife and their adult son, who helped out around the church but who no one else knew much about.

  This man was that son. The son of the local Baptist preacher. All of a sudden, the innocence which seemed to follow the guy around like a crowd made a lot more sense.

  TWO

  Why was everyone staring at him?

  Isaac perched on the barstool, trying not to notice, but he couldn’t help it. All eyes were on him, and he could be damned if he could figure out why. Sure, he didn’t belong here, but so what? Was that a good enough reason to stare?

  That bartender, though, he wasn’t staring. That was a relief, and Isaac found himself instinctively trusting the guy because of it. Ben, the other customers of the bar called him.

  Ben was fascinating.

  That slow drawl, not so uncommon to these parts, Isaac supposed, but in that deep, rough voice, it made Isaac’s skin tingle strangely. Strong features, a combination of beautiful and handsome which made it difficult to look away. Pretty round eyes, maybe green? It was hard to tell in the darkness of the bar.

  There was something about that chin, lightly dusted with stubble, which made him want to run his fingers along his jaw. Something about those high cheekbones which utterly fascinated Isaac.

  His father had said, more than once, that the opportunity to sin was everywhere. Isaac saw sin in this man, this Ben’s face, and he couldn’t help but find it utterly fascinating.

  Better to get out of here. To leave the sweet drink, though that made him a little bit sad. His father had told him he could sleep in the church because his car had broken down and it was pouring rain out far too much for him to walk home, which he normally would do when his old car gave up on him.

  “You in a hurry to be someplace?” Ben asked, and Isaac shook his head. There was really nowhere to sleep in the church, other than on a pew, he supposed, but he could never do that. So he would probably just end up wandering through the church by himself.

  The church at night could be a bit of a creepy place to be, but it wasn’t the first time, and he supposed that it wouldn’t be the last.

  “No, I suppose I’m not,” Isaac admitted and settled himself gingerly back on the barstool. He leaned in and sipped from the straw of his fruity drink, his Shirley Temple, he’d been told.

  “Come dance with me.” The one that Ben had called Hank, a strong, large man who looked like he could break Isaac in half, if he wanted to, a man with huge rough looking hands, spoke from behind him.

  Isaac turned to look at him, and he looked him up and down. Dance with him? With another man?

  All of a sudden, some pieces clicked into place in his head, some things which hadn’t quite added up before suddenly making a lot more sense.

  “You’re gay,” Isaac realized, and it was a very, very good thing that he hadn’t told his father just where he was making this phone call from. It was probably just as well that his father didn’t know about this place at all because if he did, there was no way he wouldn’t preach against it.

  Isaac didn’t want that. These men were sinning, he supposed, but they didn’t seem to be hurting anyone.

  “And you ain’t?” Han
k asked with a little bit of a smirk. The way he was looking at Isaac, it was wrong. There was desire in that gaze, and maybe Isaac hadn’t seen that look directed at him very much in his life, but he still recognized it.

  “No,” Isaac said quietly and then turned back around. “I don’t want to dance, thank you.”

  Why was his heart beating so fast? Why was he not leaving this bar? He couldn’t claim ignorance anymore, and the right thing to do, the thing which his father’s voice in the back of his head demanded that he do, was to leave.

  His eyes caught Ben’s, and he saw a slight smirk on those impossibly beautiful, full, perfectly molded lips. Somehow, without saying a word, it was like this bartender was encouraging him to stay like he knew how conflicted Isaac was and he was there, he understood.

  Was this man … was Ben gay, too? Like everyone else in this bar?

  “How do you know you’re not gay if you ain’t never tried it?” A large hand settled on Isaac’s shoulder, not rough, not hurting him, but firm and heavy, pushing Isaac down onto his stool. “Come on. Just one dance.”

  Isaac shook his head, and as confusing as he found this experience, he was very sure of one thing. He didn’t want to dance with this guy. He didn’t want to be touched by him, either, and he tried to pull his shoulder away.

  “Hank, fuck off,” Ben commented casually, but he had put down his bar cloth and was looking at the bigger man with a strange sort of intensity in his eyes, one which made them seem almost to glow a bright, warning green.

  “You fuck off, Ben, I saw him first,” Hank protested, and then Isaac found himself being yanked backward, the barstool tilting perilously under him, sliding down from under his buttocks down his legs as he was pulled back.

  It happened so quickly, there was no time to react, not for Isaac, anyway. He was too busy trying to stay on the stool, despite how determined Hank seemed to be to pull him off of it.

  Ben was there, though, and moving, grabbing Isaac by both shoulders and pulling him back so that the stool was firmly on the ground once more. Isaac grabbed the side of the counter and used the grip to keep himself from being hauled back again, deep confusion filling him as he tried to figure out what had even just happened there.