Page 11 of Stolen Faith

It was Rowan’s turn to startle when Brennon put his hand on top of Rowan’s on her hip.

Rowan rubbed the ice over Izabel’s lips. They parted, and he got an up-close view of her pretty pink tongue coming out to lick the ice.

His cock strained the front of the ill-fitting suit pants.

“Cold, Izabel?” Brennon asked when Rowan slid the ice along her jaw.

“Yes.” She shivered as he ran the ice along the skin behind her ear, then down the side of her neck.

“Let me help with that.”

Brennon cupped the back of her head and brought his lips to hers. Now Izabel was sandwiched between them, Brennon pressed to her front almost as tight as Rowan was to her back. He had an up-close look at the deep kiss his fiancés shared. Saw Izabel’s lips part to allow Brennon’s tongue in. He’d watched the same last night, mesmerized and aroused by it.

Rowan held the ball of ice against the base of her throat, the little notch where her collarbones met. She gasped into Brennon’s mouth.

Brennon pulled back, looking to see what Rowan was doing.

“Down a bit,” Brennon said.

Rowan slid the ice down her chest, then guided it across, tracing the neckline of the dress.

“Maybe I better warm her up.” Brennon bent, placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the base of Izabel’s neck, then dragged his lips down her chest, following the path of the ice.

Izabel pushed up against Brennon, tangling her fingers in his hair.

Then she turned her face to the side and her gaze met Rowan’s.

He kissed her.

Another almost electric thrill went through him the moment their lips met.

She tasted faintly of both sweet Collins mix and the earthy flavor of tonic—her vodka Collins, Brennon’s gin and tonic. Tasting both flavors was erotic in a way Rowan hadn’t expected.

Izabel’s arm came up, hugging his head, and her hand slid into his hair.

He hadn’t had a haircut since he left the service, and it was long on top. She grabbed a good handful and held tight. His scalp prickled, and he liked it. Wondered if this tingling, prickling sensation was why women liked having their hair pulled.

Rowan broke the kiss only long enough to stick the mostly melted ice cube into his mouth. Izabel was breathing hard as Brennon continued to lick and kiss her chest.

Once his tongue was cold, Rowan bit down, crunching the ice and then swallowing the small pieces. He threaded his fingers through Izabel’s updo and drew her back in for another kiss.

She gasped as his cold tongue invaded her mouth. His fingers searched for the pins that held her hair in place as Izabel sucked on his tongue.

He pulled the first hairpin out, dropping it.

Brennon must have done something because Izabel moaned and shifted her weight. Both Izabel and Brennon nearly toppled over. Rowan felt them going and quickly wrapped one arm around her, grabbing Brennon’s shoulder with the other hand.

“Maybe we should move to the couch,” Brennon said.

As one, they went to the closest couch. Brennon paused to strip off his jacket. Rowan did the same. Brennon tossed them over a chair as Izabel tumbled down onto the couch, her breasts restrained by the tight dress with each breath.

Brennon dropped down beside her, pulling her in for a kiss.

Rowan circled around the back of the couch and finished pulling out hairpins. Thick, heavy black hair tumbled around her shoulders, spilling over her chest.

Experimentally, Rowan slid his hand into it and slowly made a fist. Izabel broke the kiss with Brennon, arching up as she moaned, eyes half closed.

“You like having your hair pulled,” Rowan said softly.

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