Isidor looked at her face, just happy, leaning down and kissing her full mouth, soft. She tasted so good that he didn’t stop, the sweetness of the cider on her lips, just her, pulling her closer, his hand going to her round ass. Isidor broke it when Winter arrived behind her, pulling her hair up in back and kissing her throat, damp with sweat, blowing on it, Soule sending him a glance over her shoulder that had Winter’s eyes narrowing. Winter’s hand spanned her ribs, not quite cupping her breast but the shape of it showing to anyone who cared to look.
“You boys better take her somewhere,” Lowen said, showing up beside them.
Isidor looked up. Soule hadn’t just drawn a crowd with her singing. She’d drawn men, the whole area full of hot eyes and speculative glances sent her way. Someone sho
