‘Let me worry about that,’ she replied, pressing her almost naked body against his clothed one. So he bit her again. Harder this time. Harder still, after she writhed and told him how much she liked it.

‘Slap me,’ she asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes. He tapped her cheek gently. ‘Is that the best you can do?’ He did it again, harder. She moaned, encouraging him with her enthusiasm.

It came as no surprise to Chloe that Max was good at sex. She had always assumed that he would be. But he was seamless. He moved from action to action without a moment of hesitation. To her intense surprise, surprise soaked in guilt, when she closed her eyes and divorced herself from who it was she was in bed with, she found that she was almost enjoying herself. How many times had she lain in bed at Archer Crescent, listening to Max and Zadie going at it with the kind of aggressive lust that belongs only to people of that age, and wondered what it would be like to have Max’s hands on her skin? She watched his fingers brush her leg and tried not to rejoice in being touched by someone who had touched Zadie.

Eventually, he came, and remembering his complaint about Verity, Chloe gave an impressive performance, whimpering and clenching around him. He rolled off her and flopped back on the bed.

‘Fucking hell, Coco. That was quite something.’

‘It really was.’

‘Maybe there’s something to that delayed-gratification thing other people talk about.’

Chloe lay her head on Max’s chest. ‘Can I stay the night? Or will Verity be back in the morning?’

‘No, she won’t be here until tomorrow evening. You’re welcome to stay.’

Max fell asleep quickly. It was so like him to be able to drift off into a peaceful sleep moments after he had betrayed his fiancée. She got up quietly, gathered her clothes and went into the bathroom. It would be safer to wait until he was deeply asleep, but time was of the essence. She closed the recording she had made on her phone without watching it back. She couldn’t bring herself to just yet. Then she turned the bathroom lights on and took detailed photos, one by one, of every single mark on her body. The love bites on her neck, the flush on her cheeks, the bruise on her upper thigh where he had responded to her cajoling him to spank her. It had hurt, but she was glad of the livid red handprint it had left.

She took a deep breath. The last part. She went back to the bedroom and photographed Max. Slowly, determinedly. Then she photographed herself with him. She took his thumb and pressed it, moving so slowly and so gently she could hear her own heart beating, against his phone. It unlocked. Her chest untightened.