3. IVAN
IVAN
I park near the waterfront and catch Iris staring out the window like she's never seen downtown Portland before.
"You ever been to Saturday Market?"
She shakes her head, curls bouncing. "I usually just go between your house and campus."
"Christ." I kill the engine. "You're wasting your damn youth, Iris."
Her amber eyes flash. "I'm not wasting anything. I'm focused."
"On what? Becoming a nun?" I round the Range Rover before she can bolt, opening her door. "Come on. Time to live a little."
The market sprawls across blocks, vendors hawking everything from tie-dye tapestries to hand-forged knives. Iris stays close, overwhelmed by the crowd, and I let my hand rest on her lower back—guiding her, protecting her from the surge of bodies.
"Hungry?" I steer her toward a row of food trucks belching smoke and spices.
"I don't know what half this stuff is."
"Then pick something you've never tried." I nod at a Thai cart with a line snaking around the corner. "That one."
She orders pad see ew, stumbling over the pronunciation until the vendor smiles and corrects her gently. When the steaming container lands in her hands, she looks at it like it might explode.
"Use the fork, not a textbook." I grab my own bánh mì and lean against a railing overlooking the river. "Tell me what you taste."
She takes a tentative bite, eyes widening. "Sweet. And… savory? And something else I can't name."
"That's called flavor, sweetheart. You should try it more often."
She elbows me, laughing, and the sound cracks something open in my chest.
We wander through stalls—handmade jewelry, vintage records, a guy juggling flaming torches. Iris stops at a bookstall, fingers trailing over worn spines, and I watch her face soften into something almost reverent.
"You want one?" I ask.
"I have too many already."
"That's not what I asked."
She picks up a battered copy of Wuthering Heights, cheeks pink. "I've read it five times."
I pluck it from her hands and drop cash on the table before she can protest. "Now you'll read it six."
"Ivan—"
"Shut up and say thank you."
"Thank you." She clutches the book to her chest, beaming, and I have to look away before I do something stupid like kiss her in front of five hundred strangers.
We drift into Powell's, the massive bookstore swallowing us whole. Iris vanishes into the stacks and I trail after her, watching her run fingers along spines, lips moving silently as she reads titles.
"Find anything good?"
She jumps, nearly dropping an armful of poetry collections. "You scared me."
"You get lost in your head." I step closer, caging her against the shelf. "It's dangerous."
Her breath hitches. "Dangerous how?"
"You stop paying attention." My thumb brushes her jaw. "Someone could sneak up on you."
A guy browsing nearby glances over, gaze lingering on Iris's flushed face and the way her sweater's slipped off one shoulder. My hand moves to her hip, possessive and unmistakable.
He finds somewhere else to be.
"Ivan." Her voice drops to a whisper. "People are staring."
"Let them." I lean in, mouth near her ear. "You think your crush is gonna make you feel like this?"
She swallows hard. "I… I don't?—"
"Liar." I pull back, smirking. "Come on. One more stop."
Outside, the sun's dipping gold over the Willamette. I buy us coffee from a cart and we sit on a bench, shoulders touching, watching boats drift past.
"Thank you," Iris says quietly. "For today."
"We're not done yet."
She looks at me, eyes searching. "What else?"
I smile, the kind that makes Iris shift uneasily beside me. "How's that bully? The one who made your life hell two months back?"
Her fingers tighten around her coffee cup. "Madison? She transferred to St. Mary's Academy after you… after what happened."
"After I reminded her parents and that useless principal what harassment lawsuits look like." I stretch my arm along the back of the bench, not quite touching her but close enough to feel her warmth. "She leave you alone now?"
"Mostly." Iris picks at the cardboard sleeve. "We're neighbors, so I see her sometimes. She just makes these little comments, you know? About my clothes or how I look tired or…" She trails off, jaw set.
The muscle in my cheek jumps. "What kind of comments?"
"It doesn't matter. She's not worth?—"
"What. Kind."
She sighs. "Last week she said it's 'so brave' how I leave the house looking like I just rolled out of bed. Yesterday she asked if I was sick because I looked 'really pale and worn out.'"
My knuckles crack as I flex my fist. "That right?"
"Ivan." Iris turns to face me, eyes wide. "Don't. I can handle her."
"I'm sure you can." I drain the last of my coffee and stand, offering my hand. "But humor me. Want to pay her a visit?"
"What?" She stares at my outstretched palm like it's a trap.
"This is insane." Iris's breath comes in quick puffs as we crouch behind Madison's pool house. The property's dark except for the underwater lights casting rippling blue shadows across the lawn. "You're a semi-retired lawyer. You literally prosecute people who do this."
"Only when they get caught." I test the gate latch—unlocked, because rich people always think their neighborhood keeps them safe. "And we won't get caught."
"Her parents could be home."
"They're not. No CCTVs too." I slip through the gate and Iris follows, still muttering protests. "They're at some charity gala downtown until midnight. Saw it on her mom's Instagram."
"You stalked her mom's Instagram?"
"Due diligence." The pool stretches before us, steam rising from heated water. I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on a lounge chair.
Iris freezes. "What are you doing?"
"What's it look like?" My belt hits the concrete.
"Ivan. Ivan, stop?—"
My jeans follow. Then my boxers.
"Oh my God." She claps a hand over her eyes, but her fingers spread just enough to peek through. "You're completely naked."
"Excellent observation." I dive in, the water closing over my head in a perfect, quiet rush. When I surface, Iris stands at the edge, arms crossed, face somewhere between horrified and fascinated.
"You've lost your mind."
"Maybe." I float on my back, grinning up at the stars. "God, I missed this."
"Missed what? Breaking and entering?"
"Feeling alive." I flip upright, water streaming down my face. "Used to do shit like this in high school. Sneak into country clubs, swim in strangers' pools…" I gesture to the empty space beside me. "Your turn."
"Absolutely not."
"Come on. When's the last time you did something reckless?"
"Never, because I have common sense."
"Exactly." I swim to the edge, forearms braced on the concrete, looking up at her. "You're eighteen and you've never lived. Never broken a rule. Never done anything just because it felt good."
She shifts her weight. "That's not true."
"Name one thing."
Her mouth opens. Closes.
"That's what I thought." I push off the wall. "Get in the water, Iris."
"Someone will see."
"No one's home."
"We'll get arrested."
"Then you'll have a good story." I tilt my head, studying her shadowed face. "Or are you scared?"
"I'm not scared."
"Prove it."
Her jaw sets. She glances at the dark house, then back at me, fingers going to the hem of her sweater.
"I've already seen you," I remind her softly. "No reason to be shy now."
She peels the sweater off. Her tank top follows. By the time she's down to her bra and panties, her hands shake.
"All of it," I murmur.
The bra unclasps. Falls. Her panties slide down her thighs and then she's stepping out of them, arms wrapped around herself, moonlight painting her skin pearl-white.
Beautiful doesn't cover it.
She slips into the water fast, submerging to her shoulders. "This is crazy."
"Yeah." I stay where I am, giving her space. "Best kind of crazy, though."
We float in silence for a moment, just the quiet lap of water and distant city sounds. Then Iris laughs, soft and surprised.
"What?"
"I can't believe we're doing this." She dips backward, hair fanning around her. "In Madison's pool. Madison."
"Poetic justice."
We drift closer, drawn together like magnets despite every rational thought screaming at us to maintain distance.
Her legs brush against mine underwater, skin silk-soft and warm even in the cool pool, sending electricity shooting straight through me.
Her knee grazing my thigh as we tread water—but it might as well be a live wire for the way it makes my blood surge.
Her eyes catch the silvery moonlight filtering through the neighbor's oak tree, amber and liquid and completely locked on mine with an intensity that makes my chest tighten.
Those doe eyes framed by wet lashes that look almost black in the shadows.
Water droplets cling to her cheekbones like scattered diamonds, and her dark curls float around her shoulders in a glossy cloud that makes her look like some kind of water nymph—dangerous and tempting.
I cup the back of her neck.
"Ivan—"
I kiss her.
She goes rigid for a heartbeat, then melts, hands coming up to grip my shoulders. Her mouth opens under mine and she tastes like coffee and something sweeter, something that's just her.
When we break apart, she's breathing hard.
"We shouldn't?—"
I kiss her again.
This time, she doesn't protest.
My mouth drags down her jaw, rough and hungry, teeth grazing the delicate line of her throat. She gasps, nails digging into my shoulders as I work lower—collarbone, sternum, the swell of her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
"Ivan—" Her voice breaks when I dip underwater, lips closing over her nipple. Warm, sweet milk floods my tongue and I groan against her skin, the sound muffled by water rushing in my ears. My hands cup the weight of her breasts, kneading, coaxing more of that addictive flow as I suck hard.
I surface for air, water streaming down my face, and she's staring at me with blown pupils and parted lips, cheeks flushed scarlet.
I dive back under, switching to her other breast, tongue circling the peaked bud before I pull it into my mouth. She whimpers above me, fingers threading through my hair, holding me there like she can't decide if she wants me closer or needs to push me away.
The danger of it—naked in some stranger's pool, anyone could walk out, catch us—sends electricity down my spine. I rise again, gasping, and haul her against me so her thighs wrap around my waist.
"Oh God—" She says as I lower my mouth to feast again, lips latching onto the full curve of her breast. Milk leaks steadily now, warm rivulets running down my throat, and I drink like I'm dying of thirst.
Her body trembles, back arching to offer more, and the soft sounds spilling from her lips are driving me out of my fucking mind. I knead the other breast roughly, thumb circling the nipple until she keens, hips rolling against my stomach underwater.
"Ivan, please?—"
I surface once more, panting, and crush my mouth to hers. She tastes herself on my tongue and moans, greedy and desperate, her nails raking lines down my back that sting in the chlorinated water.
"You're so goddamn perfect." I suck a mark into the hollow of her throat, teeth scraping skin. "So fucking sweet."
"Someone could see?—"
"Let them." I drag her higher against the pool edge, water sluicing off her curves, and lower my head to her chest again. My tongue traces the underside of her breast before I take the nipple fully into my mouth, sucking hard, pulling every drop I can get.
She sobs out something incoherent, fingers white-knuckled in my hair, and I switch sides, greedy bastard that I am, kneading and drinking until her legs shake around my ribs.
"You love this," I rasp between pulls, eyes flicking up to catch hers. "Don't you?"
"Yes—" The word rips from her throat, raw and wrecked. "God, yes, I love it?—"
I groan against her skin, cock throbbing painfully hard, and suck until her nipple swells dark pink in the pool lights. Milk flows freely now, warm and rich, and I lap at every drop like I'll never get enough.
Because I won't.
She tugs my hair, dragging my mouth back to hers, and we kiss like drowning—messy, desperate, all teeth and tongue and gasping breaths.
"We should go," she pants against my lips.
"Not yet."
I lower my mouth again, tongue swirling before I seal my lips around the peak and draw hard. She arches into me, water rippling, and I feel the rush of warm sweetness fill my mouth. Her fingers tighten in my hair, nails scraping my scalp, and I drink deep, greedy for every drop.
"Tell me." I release her with a wet pop, eyes locked on hers. "Tell me you like your stepbrother's mouth on you like this."
Her eyes go wide, pupils blown, and for a heartbeat she looks terrified—like saying it out loud will make it real, make it wrong. But then her chin lifts, those amber eyes fierce and molten.
"Yes." No hesitation. No shame. "I love your mouth on me."
Something inside me clicks into place, final and absolute. Mine. She's finally admitting it.
"Good girl." I crush my mouth to hers, tongue sweeping in to claim every inch. She opens for me, moaning into the kiss, and I grip her thighs, spreading them wide as I haul her higher against the pool edge.
My mouth trails down—jaw, throat, between her breasts where I pause to suck one more mark into the soft skin. She gasps, head falling back, and I keep moving lower. I'm about to submerge, mouth inches from where she's hottest, when?—
"Who's out there?"
Light floods the backyard—harsh, blinding—and Iris's eyes go huge with panic.
"Go, go, go—" I'm already moving, shoving her to get off the pool as footsteps pound closer. She scrambles out, naked and dripping, and I haul myself after her in one fluid motion.
"Hey! Who are you? Stop right there!"
We snatch our clothes, don't bother dressing, just bolt for the fence. Iris fumbles with the gate latch, hands shaking, and I reach over her shoulder to flip it open.
Footsteps are getting louder.
"Move." I grip her waist and practically throw her through, then follow, slamming the gate behind us. We sprint down the sidewalk, wet feet slapping pavement, clothes clutched to our chests like shields.
"Oh my God, oh my God—" Iris's laughing and gasping at the same time, curls wild and dripping, eyes bright with adrenaline. "We're so dead?—"
"Keep running." I grab her hand, dragging her around the corner just as a porch light flicks on behind us. We don't slow until we reach my car three blocks away, both of us doubled over, panting and laughing like lunatics.
"That was—" She can't finish, chest heaving, face flushed and beautiful in the streetlight. "You're insane."
"Told you." I yank my jeans on, no underwear, while she struggles into her clothes with shaking hands. "Still think this isn't fun?"
"I think you're going to get us arrested." But she's grinning, eyes sparkling, and when I cup her face and kiss her hard, she kisses back without hesitation.
Mine.