Kiss Is a Four-Letter Word

Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2012 Erin M. Leaf

ISBN:
978-1-77130-027-8

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: JC Chute

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my husband: our first kiss was more incredible than anything I've ever written or read. Thank you for romancing me so thoroughly all those years ago.

KISS IS A FOUR-LETTER WORD

Four-Letter Word, 2

Erin M. Leaf

Copyright © 2012

Chapter One

The first time Sherry Griffin set eyes on Eli and Simon, the mountain had just reared up out of nowhere and bit her on the ass. She'd tried to compensate when her bike slid sideways on the rocky single-track, but her ankle twisted, unclipping her shoe from the pedal. Before she could figure out what the hell to do, she flew end over end above her handlebars.
Stupid trail.
Her butt hit one of the pointiest rocks and she knew the bruise would be fantastic. The arrowhead-shaped stone wanted blood. She gasped and rubbed her rear. Where the hell was her bike?

"I wouldn't try to move yet, if I were you," a deep male voice said.

"You may have broken something," another one volunteered. This voice was lighter, not quite a baritone, but no less attractive sounding.

Sherry spat out some dust and rolled over, ignoring both the warnings and the twinge in her backside. Her eyes locked onto two of the most gorgeous specimens of male beauty she’d ever seen standing over her.

Well, hello
, she thought.
Greek gods for the win.
"What?" she said aloud, like an idiot. She coughed.
Damn mountain
. Her eyes watered and she blinked, trying to get the grit out so she could focus. The men had to have seen her humiliating display of bicycling ineptitude. Ugh. When her vision finally cleared, Sherry looked at them again and her mouth fell open. Nope, she hadn't been hallucinating.

Standing before her were two extremely good-looking guys. One wore cut-off jeans shorts and an old t-shirt hanging loose over an obviously fit torso. A brilliantly colored tattoo peeked from his shirtsleeve. His legs were to die for. Sherry winced at the thought of biking in those shorts, but he didn't seem to be in any pain. Her eyes dropped to his groin, where she ogled his rather substantial package.
What about chafing?
Sherry snapped her mouth shut.
Stop staring at him, you ninny
. While she kicked her brain back into gear he moved his bicycle off the trail so no one else would ride down onto it. She stared at the back of his head helplessly, wondering if his short golden hair would feel as soft as it looked.

Sherry forced her eyes away from him to check out the shorter of the two men. Sensibly, he wore traditional baggy mountain biking shorts. A tight red jersey hugged his delicious pecs and defined shoulders. Sherry's fingers twitched. She wanted to run her hands all over him. His hair was to die for. Dark brown, shoulder-length, and shiny, it fell over his face in a tousled mess.
Yummy
. Sherry made herself stop ogling the poor guy and shifted her gaze to the bicycle he’d set down near the trail. It had a full suspension with a good derailleur. Clearly he wasn't as insane as his friend who rode a fixie. How anyone could tackle a mountain riding a bike with no gears was a mystery to her. Sherry shook her head and glanced at their feet. At least they both owned decent shoes. She struggled to her knees but a hand came down on her shoulder, urging her back down.

"Seriously, don't move yet. If you've broken something chances are you're in shock and not feeling it yet," Red-Jersey Guy said. He crouched by her side, the cleats on his shoes grinding into the gravel. She winced, hoping he wouldn't get a stone stuck in the mechanism.

"I'm pretty sure I'd know if I broke something." Sherry shifted onto her hip and scooted back, hoping to at least get off the trail. They were fair game for anyone careening down the rocky single-track. She looked around again for her bike and winced.
Crap
. It was stuck in a tree about ten feet down trail.
How the hell did it get stuck up there?

"Here, let us help," the guy wearing jeans shorts said, hand on her elbow. She rolled her eyes. Why did men think sticking an arm under an elbow was useful? No leverage. Holding her there just unbalanced her.

"Thanks, but I've got this." She brushed off his hand and moved sideways, trying to ignore the rocks digging into her ass. When she had situated herself on the grass she looked down at her legs. Oh. That's why her shin hurt. Blood coated her left ankle. She swallowed, hoping she didn't need stitches.

"Yeah, that's why we wanted to help you. You're looking a bit pale," Jean-Shorts Guy explained, dropping down next to her. "Hey Simon, get the gauze and tape, would you?"

"Shit," Sherry muttered. "I've never fallen this bad before."

He shrugged. "It happens to all of us eventually."

Sherry nodded, staring at him. The man was beautiful. Desperate to hide her infatuation with his lovely green eyes, she grilled him about his crazy clothing choices. "How the hell can you ride in jeans shorts? On a fixie, no less? Doesn't it hurt?" She promptly bit her tongue before more words could come out. Words like,
don't your balls get abraded?
And,
how does your dick like jostling around in your underwear instead of being safely held in place by a good pair of bike shorts?

He chuckled and tossed his helmet onto the grass. She tried not to stare at his hair. It was golden. Seriously, golden. It freaking sparkled in the sunlight. Jesus. Was there no end to his gorgeousness?

"I guess I'm used to it." He touched her leg, angling her knee so he could see the cut.

Sherry swallowed again, this time from the bolt of lust that surged through her body.
So weird.
She usually didn't like when people touched her. His palms were really warm. Sherry fought to keep herself from stroking his stupid, stupid, gorgeous arm. She stuffed her hands under her ass. He saw and raised an eyebrow at her, confusion on his ridiculously handsome face.
How can a man so masculine look that adorable?

"Oh, um, the rocks are kind of hard."
Yeah, right.
Her fingers twitched. Her eyes strayed to his crotch, hoping to see something else that might be hard, but his friend interrupted before she could make a total fool of herself.
Thank God.

"Eli, your first-aid kit looks like a dog threw up on it. Luckily I'm not as much of a loser as you are." Red-Jersey Guy squatted down near them with a clean square of gauze and a roll of tape. When Sherry got a good look at him close-up, she had to swallow hard. Again. His dark blue eyes were amazing. If not for the beard stubble and the masculine line of his jaw, he'd be almost pretty. Sherry couldn't tear her eyes away. He was movie-star lovely. She hadn't been this dumbstruck by a guy since—

Sherry blinked, thinking. Well, since ever. Guys this good-looking, close-up and with no camera tricks, were actually
real
?

"Hey, you still with us?" Red-Jersey Guy asked, moving closer. His hair brushed her arm and she sighed. It was soft. She bet it smelled divine but diving into it with her nose was probably a bad idea. He'd think she was crazy. He looked like a guy who washed with something yummy like cinnamon or vanilla shampoo. Or maybe even lavender. That would be awesome.

He cocked his head at her and Sherry realized he'd asked her a question. She nodded foolishly and pulled herself together. This was embarrassing. She was bold. She was strong.
At least most of the time I am. What happened in high school does not count,
she told herself.

"Hey, you guys have names?” Sherry smiled, knowing full well what would happen when they saw her dimples. They usually turned men into gibbering idiots around her. Sherry tried to smile as often as possible, of course. Life was just easier that way.

"Oh, um," Red-Jersey Guy trailed off. He'd been about to dab at the blood on her leg when she spoke. Jeans-Shorts Guy didn't even try to speak. He just stared.

Ha! Gotcha.
Sherry reached up and took off her helmet. Her French braid was making her scalp itch. She worked her fingers through it until her hair was loose.
That's better.
The curls spilled down around her shoulders to her waist. She smirked at the looks on their faces. Men could never resist the hair. She almost snapped her fingers under their noses, but managed to restrain herself.

"I'm Sherry. Sherry Griffin. It's nice to meet you. I didn't expect anyone to come to my rescue." She held out a hand. She didn't aim it toward either one of them, figuring they'd work out between themselves who would shake first. She waited, making sure her boobs were displayed properly in her pink jersey. Jeans-Shorts Guy's eyes dropped to her chest. Red-Jersey Guy stared at her lips. He recovered first and grasped her hand.

"Hi. I'm Simon River. Nice to meet you." He grinned. Sherry shook his hand, enjoying the way his palm felt against hers. She had to mentally slap herself upside the head so she wouldn't sigh in his face like a ninny. He was really beautiful, even more so when he smiled.

"I'm Eli Moest," Jeans-Shorts Guy interrupted, physically pulling Simon's arm out of her grasp. Sherry bit her lip, holding back a grin as she shook hands with him too. His were more calloused than Simon's, but still warm. Gentle.

"Nice to meet you," Sherry said.

"So, what happened?" Simon asked.

"Rocks. Lots and lots of rocks." Sherry gestured around them. They sat on the grassy side of a steep trail. It was mostly an open rock field, with only a few trees and bushes dotting the landscape, probably because the trail ran along a power line. Woods surrounded it on both sides, but the trail itself was clear. "I've ridden down this single-track a lot, but today was the first time it tried to kill me."