She did. She took him deeper. Her eyes watered and stayed open because the mirror was there and Owen had told her to look. Jude’s fingers curled. The pleasure came up sharp and dirty and she made a noise around Owen that he felt in his spine. He swore once, softly, like a man trying not to finish a sentence too soon.

Jude stood. His mouth was wet. He pulled his shirt off in one motion and dropped it on the chair. He was leaner than Owen, paler at the chest, a line of hair down the centre that Lena had once followed with her teeth. He opened his trousers...