Creep - Jennifer Hillier [1]
It had to end. All of it. Sheila and her therapist had been working hard on this. Yes, even psychologists had psychologists.
It wouldn’t be easy. Ethan was good-looking and prone to getting his way. Hell, he had seduced her, though Sheila suspected not even her therapist believed that.
They were in her bright corner office on the fourth floor of the psychology building at Puget Sound State University. He was relaxed, casual, his jean-clad legs spread open in that cocky way he liked to sit. The desk between them was strewn with papers, an organized clutter that served as a makeshift barrier.
Observing him, she watched his full lips form words she only half-heard. There was nothing vague about Ethan’s attractiveness, but he downplayed it by wearing ratty vintage T-shirts, worn jeans, tennis shoes. His hard, flat stomach wasn’t evident through the loose-fitting shirt, but Sheila could damn well picture it.
She had no idea how he was going react to her news. She’d known him long enough to understand his propensity for structure, and she was about to upset the routine they’d established over the past three months.
Of her five teaching assistants, Ethan was the brightest and most ambitious. His intelligence and drive had been a big part of his appeal. They were discussing grades for her popular summer-session undergraduate social psychology class, and so far neither of them had commented as to why they were meeting here this morning, in her office, instead of room sixteen at the Ivy Motel. She knew he had to be thinking about it, because she was thinking about it, too.
She forced herself to focus on what he was saying.
“Danny Ambrose doesn’t deserve a B,” he said, fingers resting lightly on the arms of his chair. He never talked with his hands, even when he was passionate about something. “The similarities he drew between Milgram’s experiment and the Nazis? Too obvious.”
His brows were furrowed. Sheila was about to overrule the grade Ethan had assigned to one of her undergraduate students, and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t used to it. They didn’t disagree often.
“He loses points for originality, but don’t you think his argument is solid?” Sheila smiled to soften her words. “This is only a sophomore class. He did what was asked of him and it was better than average. I spoke to Danny personally the other day. He risks losing his scholarship if we give him that C. He’s a good kid. I’d really hate to see that happen.”
She could almost hear the wheels in Ethan’s mind turning as he thought of a counterargument. Most of the time she encouraged healthy debate, but she wasn’t in the mood this morning. There was a conversation they needed to have, and she was having a hard time steering them in that direction.
She waited, saying nothing. If she didn’t push it, he’d come around. The key was to let him work through it on his own.
“Okay,” Ethan said finally. “You win, Sheila. Danny gets a B. Lucky bastard. God, I hate it when you assert your authority over me.” Lowering his voice, he glanced over his shoulder at the open door behind him. “You’ll have to make it up to me later.” He leaned forward and ran a finger down the back of her left hand, lips curled into the half-smile she liked so much.
His finger brushed over the band of her new diamond ring, turned inside out so the stone was tucked into her palm. His gaze dropped down to her hand.
She was surprised it had taken him this long to notice. Here we go.
Her first instinct was to yank her hand away, but that would only make things worse. Willing herself to appear relaxed, she twisted the platinum band around. Ethan’s eyes widened at the sight of the four-carat diamond.
“What’s this?” The lightness of his tone did not match his face. A flush emerged just above the neckline of his T-shirt. He touched a finger to the top of the stone, leaving