Falling for My Dirty Uncle

“Thank you so much, Professor Wesley—”

“Ethan,” he corrects me.

“Ethan,” I say, savoring the taste of his name on my lips. I think of him as Ethan already, but I think I actually wanted him to correct me, and I don't know why.

Oh, God.

Because I know that what might be happening between us is wrong. I want to hear him press for it. And even though he told everyone to call him Ethan, or Dr. Ethan, we both know this is different.

“Ethan,” I repeat, knitting my eyebrows. Pursing my lips for a second. “I appreciate you saving me. I haven’t heard from campus police yet about…”

I don’t want to say it.

I don’t even want to talk about this.

Ethan puts his hand on my shoulder, letting it grip around the curve of my upper arm.

I inhale sharply at his touch, licking my lips instantly at just the contact of his hand on my skin.

“They’re gone,” Ethan says.

That’s all he says!

“How can that be possible with no one getting my side of the story? I’m sure that they didn’t confess…”

That’s supposed to be Ethan’s opening to respond. Instead, he’s gathering his bag to leave. “I handled it,” he says with a calm finality.

But I won’t be so easily dismissed. I don’t doubt that he’s taken care of the situation, but I feel like I need to know how. I follow him out of the building.

“Be more observant,” Ethan instructs.

What? I don’t know what that's supposed to mean, but I follow him out the steps of the building, listening to his words in my mind. They’re echoing off the inner chambers of my thoughts.

Ethan starts to walk off and I don’t understand what he means until I see him look back at the building.

Then I look up and see ‘WESLEY’ written on the building.

There’s prestige, and there’s name-written-on-the-building prestige.

“Wow,” I say before I stop myself from sounding like a stupid little girl.

I see a faint grin forming on his lips from the profile view that I have of Ethan, and I don’t know if it's because he’s amused by me or not. Does he think I’m some twit?

I hurry to catch up with him. “Did you get him kicked out?” I ask in a quiet voice, like we’re in some clandestine meeting and not walking through a relatively empty area of campus.

“I have a meeting now, but after your next class you can come to my office if you’d like to discuss it,” Ethan says. I watch his lips as he talks, then follow up his face to the way his eyes are looking at me with that same intense heat.

“Your office,” I say. “Yes.” I pause, then reach out and touch his arm. “I’ll see you there,” I say, and turn because my class is in the opposite direction.

What am I doing? I so need to talk to Delia about this … but I don’t know if there’s really any ‘this’ to discuss. I don’t know if I even should.

Right now, I need to focus on my chemistry class. Later…well, these are matters to discuss with Ethan.

Alone.

In his office.

Emmaline