“And they told you to talk me into mating with you.”
“I thinkcharmwas the word they used.”
“You’ve hit me with more than enough charm as it is,” I said.
“I tried telling them that. Now, your job. What happened?”
“Whohappened is the better question, and it wasn’t a one-time thing. One of the other professors in my department is a… problem.”
He rinsed soap out. “What kind of problem?”
I debated how to put it.
“Maya,” he warned.
“The flirty kind of problem.”
His eyes narrowed immediately. “What?”
“Flirty is the wrong word. He’s been hitting on me for years, and he’s twenty years older than me, so I obviously haven’t reciprocated.”
“What the hell?”
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
“You haven’t told me for months, so obviously it’s a big fucking deal. Have you reported him?”
“Of course I reported him. Repeatedly. Without evidence, the school says there’s nothing they can do, and how am I supposedto get evidence of that?” I turned away from Ethan, my heart beating fast.
I’d known he’d be pissed. Which was why I hadn’t told him.
“This has been going on the whole time we’ve been together, and you didn’t tell me?” He was barely maintaining control of himself.
“I knew you’d freak out. It happens on and off, but it got a lot worse when he heard I had a boyfriend.”
“Who the fuck is your boyfriend?” he snarled.
I gave him a pointed look. “You, obviously. When would I have had time to be with anyone else?”
His anger faded slightly. “How did he find that out?”
“One of my students saw us at dinner, and gossip spreads fast at the university.”
Ethan looked a little more satisfied by that knowledge. “Then why is he still hitting on you?”
“I think it’s a possessiveness thing. He’s never taken the hint that I’m not interested, and I have to force myself not to react when he flirts so I don’t wolf out.”
“What does he do?”
“Usually not much.” I reached for the shampoo, still facing away from Ethan. He caught my arm and spun me around.
“Does he touch you?” His voice was dangerous
“Not intimately, but yeah. On my hand, arm, wrist, or shoulders. I never have evidence, though, so?—”
“Give me his name.”
I eyed him through my sunglasses. They were slipping down my nose a little, but I was used to pushing them up constantly. “That seems like a bad idea.”
