Eve, of course, let herself be dragged. Actually, she was thrilled to be dragged—damn her treacherous nervous system. Jacob’s hand was big and calloused in hers, and it held her so tightly. He pushed her into the cupboard, shut the door behind them, and there they stood in the dark.

A curse floated softly between them. “Forgot,” he said shortly. “The switch is on the outside.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she murmured, which it didn’t, because he was still holding her hand.

A taut moment passed. “Look,” he said. “I’m sorry to drag you in here, I just—Eve—you don’t really think that, do you?”

It took her a moment to realize what he meant. But once she did, the spark of irritation in her chest, the one she’d been ignoring since Sunday, became a teeny, tiny flame. “Well, yes.” She frowned. “Of course I think you’re trying to get away from me. Because you are.”

His grip on her hand tightened, relaxed. “No,” he said firmly, as if the word itself could bend reality. “No.”

“Oh, come on, Jacob,” she whispered, except her whisper sounded alarmingly like a hiss. A very soft and quiet hiss, but still. “We—things went too far, between us. I know that. And then all of a sudden you remembered how desperately you wanted me out of your house. Fine. Your decision. I’m going along with it. But you’re not allowed to pretend it’s something else.”

There was a long pause before he said slowly, “You’re angry. You’re angry with me.”

“No, I’m not,” she snapped, rather angrily. Which gave her pause. Made her examine the irritable little flame in her chest. Made her realize that actually, yes, she was angry, despite her decision to get over this whole thing.

Eve wasn’t used to being angry, especially not for long. She was always aware that most people didn’t want her around badly enough to put up with difficult conversations, with constant complaints. She was used to swallowing her feelings and replacing them with a smile, to playing the role in which she’d been cast.

But these feelings were huge and jagged and spiky in her stomach, and she wanted to spit them out.

“Fine,” she blurted. “Fine, yes, maybe I am. Maybe I’m angry with you because—because I thought we were equals, even if you are my boss, but as soon as you made me orgasm you decided to become my benevolent overlord.” She ignored the alarmed choking sound Jacob made when she said orgasm. “I realize this is awkward for you. I get that. And if you want to throw me out to make it less awkward, fine. But don’t act like you’re doing it for my benefit, and don’t act like you didn’t strong-arm me into it instead of asking what I wanted to do.”

Once all those words had rushed out, Eve felt a bit like an empty pond, her usually hidden depths suddenly exposed to the light. Belatedly, her cheeks warmed. She’d made that speech intending to demand honesty, and autonomy, and all those lovely things Dani was always talking about. But she was suddenly worried it had come off as simply demanding Jacob. That she’d revealed, somewhere in her little speech, how badly she still wanted him.