Jude came close enough that Lena had to tip her head to keep both of them in sight. He lifted his hand and stopped a finger’s width from her cheek.

“Ask,” he said.

Lena could have kissed him. She could have pulled Owen’s mouth down. She did neither yet. She turned her face so Jude’s fingers, when they landed, landed at the corner of her mouth. He traced that corner once. Slow. The way he did everything that mattered.

Owen watched from an inch away. His breath was on her temple. His other hand slid under the back of her shirt and spread there, warm, claiming the skin Jude was...