Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Aiden

$803

I was determined to make him pay for what he’d done.

The instant I crossed the threshold of the gym, the entire punishment I had in mind was already crystal clear in my head.

Endless circuits until his arms gave out. Grueling conditioning drills until his legs refused to move. No breaks for water. No room for mercy.

And yes, I’ll admit it—my body was already reacting, anticipation making my pulse quicken in a way I couldn’t deny.

Normally, Mr. A would have reached for the crop to deliver a proper lesson, but for now, this brutal workout would have to serve as his reckoning.

What he pulled the night before? Reckless, immature, and utterly unacceptable. But my reaction to it… that was probably even worse. So many layers of wrong I couldn’t begin to unravel them.

Mr. A was the sinner, the shadow lurking behind the screen. He was the dangerous one—the Dom who could chew someone up, spit them out, and walk away unscathed. Mr. A wasn’t constrained by league rules, university policies, or the fragile leash of a public coaching career.

But last night?

That wasn’t Mr. A lurking three meters away—it was Coach Aiden Mercer.

And what I saw?

A student—my student—getting mildly drunk, making out with some random girl, and receiving a blowjob in the hotel gym… all while I watched from the darkness like some perverted voyeur with zero self-control.

What the hell was wrong with me?

But even more importantly—what the hell was wrong with Noah?

Was he trying to get back at me for ignoring him?

Was he desperate to prove something? To reclaim some pathetic scrap of control?

Or was he simply so damn horny he couldn’t keep it in his pants?

I clenched my fists tightly as I paced across the gym floor, the sound of my footsteps echoing hollowly, doing nothing to quell the fire burning inside my chest.

6:00 a.m. came and went.

Noah didn’t show.

Fine. He was late.

Strike one.

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11:39 Tue, Oct 21

Chapter 12

7:00 a.m.? Still no sign of him.

Strike two.

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I was ready to set the whole place on fire.

Storming out of the gym, I took the elevator down to the dining room, fully prepared to drag him by the ear and make him regret ever being born.

And there he was.

Sitting at a table like he owned the entire hotel.

His legs stretched out lazily. Hoodie hanging loose. Hair a messy tumble, like he’d just rolled out of bed with zero guilt weighing on him.

And the plate before him?

Buttery croissants. Jam. Bacon. Eggs swimming in grease. Pastries. A literal chocolate muffin.

Not a single approved food item anywhere in sight.

He glanced up casually, locking eyes with me as if I were just an inconvenient passerby, and took a slow, deliberate sip of orange juice.

Like he was the one calling the shots.

Like we should all feel honored he’d even bothered to show up.

My jaw clenched tight. My vision blurred red with fury.

You want a tantrum, boy?

You’re about to get a full-on reckoning.

He looked up from his plate as if nothing was wrong. As if he wasn’t hours late. As if he hadn’t spent the entire night pulling the most reckless stunt I’d seen in years.

“Morning, Coach,” he said, voice casual, like I was just another guest at the hotel.

I approached the table, murder simmering in my eyes. “You’re late.”

Then, in a low whisper laced with venom and promise, I said, “Be careful… boy. I might take you up on that sooner than you think.”

The moment the words slipped out, I knew.

I fucking knew.

I’d said that to him before.

As Mr. A.

And I saw it—the flicker in his eyes, the twitch of his lips, the inhale that went just a little too deep.

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11:39 Tue, Oct 21

Chapter 12

He recognized it.

He knew.

Maybe not consciously. Maybe not fully.

But something clicked.

I stepped back, letting the tension between us cool just enough to keep from exploding.

“Now go to the gym,” I ordered, my voice sharp as a razor. “Start your rounds. And you better be drenched in sweat by the time I get there.”

He stared at me for a moment, lips parted, jaw tight.

Then he turned and walked away—shoulders stiff, fists clenched—but obeying.

I watched him go, then finally sat down for my breakfast.

The food tasted like ash on my tongue. My thoughts louder than the clinking of silverware around me.

I had played with fire, let my two lives blur together for a moment…

And if he was smart—and he was—that boy was putting the pieces together.

Fast.

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