Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Aiden

There it was at last.

That subtle fracture—the delicate crack in the armor Noah had worn so tightly for so long it seemed inseparable from him.

No sharp retorts. No clever jokes. No confident swagger. Just Noah—vulnerable, exposed, trembling on the edge of something he didn’t fully grasp yet still craved deeply.

I had anticipated this moment would arrive—not out of arrogance, but because I’d witnessed it before. In others. In myself.

That quiet, weary surrender that comes when you’re simply too exhausted to bear the weight of your own turmoil any longer.

Noah wasn’t merely angry or inquisitive now. He was desperate.

I closed the distance between us deliberately, moving slowly to give him space to reconsider, to step away if he chose. But he stood his ground.

When I reached him, I lifted one hand gently to his jaw, tilting his chin upward so our eyes met—those restless, wide blue eyes searching.

“Take a breath,” I whispered softly.

He shut his eyes before drawing in that breath.

“Good,” I murmured, my thumb tracing lightly along the edge of his cheekbone before lowering my hand. “This… this right here? This is the Noah I can work with.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but I saw his shoulders relax just a little, the tension in his clenched fists easing.

“Will you… train me then?” he asked quietly.

“If that’s truly what you want, yes,” I said, watching as he lowered his gaze, his face half-hidden beneath the shadow of his hood.

“I want that peace you mentioned. I want to trust someone who won’t let me down—not like I’ve let myself down.”

“Noah, I won’t let you down. Not here, not on the field, not as long as you trust me. Can you do that?” My voice softened as I held his gaze steadily.

“I really want to…” he whispered.

He hesitated, embarrassed. I noticed his hands twitch nervously at his sides.

“Noah,” I said softly, pausing behind him. “Do you understand what this is?”

He nodded once.

I stopped him.

“I didn’t ask for a nod,” I said, my voice low but firm. “When I ask a question, I expect a clear answer. Yes, Sir. Or No, Sir. No shrugs. No nods. No guessing. Words, Noah. Use them.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

There it was. Sharp, a little breathless.

I could feel the clash inside him—the urge to rebel tangled with the desire to obey. That tension was priceless.

“This is submission, Noah. Not sex. Not games. Just obedience.” I stepped closer, my breath brushing against the shell of his ear. “You want this? Then give me this.”