1. IRIS #3
I should say no. Should tell him the truth screaming inside my head: It's you. It's always been you. Every thought, every fantasy, every forbidden feeling I can't control?—
"Yes." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
Silence. Heavy and suffocating.
I can't look at him. Can't see whatever expression crosses his face because if I do, I'll break. I'll confess everything and ruin the fragile balance we've maintained since I moved into his house.
If I can't have a crush on my stepbrother, I might as well give my attention to someone else. Someone safe. Someone who isn't forbidden.
"Then I'll help you."
"What?" I twist toward him despite myself.
Ivan's jaw works, that muscle ticking in his temple. "I'll teach you. How to not be so... uptight. So a guy like Nate will notice you."
A laugh bursts out of me—sharp, disbelieving. "You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
He doesn't. His face is all brutal angles and deadly seriousness, those dark hazel eyes boring into mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
"Ivan, that's?—"
"Nate's the type who likes experienced girls." His voice drops lower, rougher. "You saw him today. Flirting with that cheerleader with makeup caked on her face, skirt showing everything. That's what gets his attention."
Something twists in my stomach. Jealousy? Hurt? I can't tell anymore.
"Though personally," Ivan continues, gaze tracking over my face, "I'd prefer you stay virgin and innocent until you're fully honest with your feelings. Until you finally settle for a guy who's really for you."
The words hang between us, weighted with meaning I can't quite grasp. My pulse hammers in my ears. What does he mean by that? Really for you. The way he says it?—
I shake my head, pushing the thought away before it forms completely.
"Okay. So what's your suggestion then?"
"Like I said." His mouth curves into something between a smirk and a scowl. "Stop being so uptight."
Another laugh escapes me, this one tinged with resignation. "Impossible. I was born like this."
"I know a way."
Ivan's voice drops lower, rougher, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
I swallow hard, arms still crossed tight over the damp flannel. "A way to what?"
"To fix your... situation." His gaze drops pointedly to my chest, where the dark spots have spread wider. "I'll suck that milk out of you."
The words slam into me like a physical blow. My mouth drops open. Heat floods every inch of my body—face, neck, chest—until I'm burning alive in this car.
"What?" The word comes out strangled. "Ivan, that's—no. Absolutely not. That's completely inappropriate and wrong and?—"
"Is it?" He leans back in his seat, one tattooed arm draped over the steering wheel, watching me with that infuriating calm. "More wrong than walking around leaking through your clothes? More wrong than hiding this from everyone, including the parents who could actually help you?"
My jaw works, searching for arguments that won't come.
"You want me to keep your secret?" His voice hardens, taking on that controlled edge he uses in negotiations. "Then you let me milk you. Simple transaction."
Fury sparks hot in my chest. "You're blackmailing me."
"I'm offering a solution." His mouth curves, sharp and dangerous. "One that benefits your goal of getting Nate's attention. Can't look all uptight and virginal when you've had a man's mouth on your tits, can you?"
The crudeness makes me flinch, even as warmth and wetness pools between my thighs, being so fertile for him. God, what's wrong with me? This is my stepbrother. This is wrong.
Except...
Except I want it. Want him. Have wanted him since that first glimpse at the wedding last year when our eyes met across the reception hall and something electric sparked between us.
Every day living under his roof has been torture—watching him move through the house shirtless, catching his scent on borrowed clothes, feeling his gaze track me like I'm prey he's stalking.
This is dangerous. Forbidden. Everything I shouldn't want.
But when will I ever get another chance to feel his hands on me? His mouth? Even if it's under this twisted pretense, even if he thinks it's just a lesson to help me attract someone else?—
"It could work as practice." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "For loosening up. So I don't seem so... innocent?"
Something dark flashes through Ivan's eyes. His jaw clenches, shoulders tensing in a way that makes the tattoos shift across his chest under his shirt.
"Practice." He repeats the word slowly, like tasting it. "Right."
My heart hammers against my ribs. This is insane. Completely insane. I should say no, get out of this car, run straight to my room and lock the door?—
"Okay." My voice comes out barely a whisper. "Yes."
The silence stretches between us, charged and dangerous. Ivan's gaze holds mine, dark hazel eyes searching my face like he's reading every micro-expression, every tell I can't hide.
"When?"
The question makes my stomach flip. He's serious. We're actually doing this.
"I don't—" I fiddle with the flannel's string, unable to meet those intense eyes anymore. "When do you suggest?"
"Now."