Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 229

Chapter 229

Noah

The moment his lips collided with mine, a blinding white rush flooded through me, overwhelming every sense. I had been yearning—aching, really—for this exact connection. For him. For the sound of his breath mingling with mine, the taste that was uniquely his, and the way his body molded perfectly against mine, as if we were two halves designed to fit in the chaos we both pretended to reject.

It wasn’t a feeling of triumph. No, it was more like being consumed by fire and convincing yourself it was mercy.

His hands roamed with a fierce urgency—trembling, desperate, almost frantic. I knew I had pushed him too far this time, a part of me painfully aware of the line I’d crossed, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Every time he tried to raise a barrier, I was determined to tear it down. Every “no” he uttered only made me want to remind him that nothing on this earth was as honest as the way our bodies fit together.

I had replayed this moment endlessly in my mind since the last time we were close, but none of my fantasies had captured the raw intensity of now.

He kissed me like I was a punishment, like I had broken something inside him—and maybe I had. But I didn’t care. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer when he gasped for air, desperate for more. I needed to break through all the anger, the guilt, the armor he wore like a second skin. I needed him to remember that beneath it all, I was still the one who reached him.

His groan against my lips was the most exquisite sound I had ever heard. Every ounce of resistance inside me dissolved. My victory wasn’t in forcing him to surrender—it was in knowing that he still felt the same pull, the same undeniable connection.

“Fuck,” I moaned into his mouth as our bodies pressed tightly together. God, I wished this moment could stretch on forever, to feel him like this for the rest of my life. I wanted the night to last endlessly, but my craving was insatiable—and so was his.

“I need to be inside you. Now,” he commanded, flipping me over before slipping off the bed to grab some lube from the bathroom. My heart pounded as I watched him move, afraid he might disappear or that this was all just a dream. If it was, then it was going to be one hot, wet dream.

He returned quickly, coating himself and preparing me carefully. Then he knelt at the foot of the bed, pulling me down toward him. He pressed my knees tightly to my chest, instructing me to hold them there. One hand stroked my shaft while the other continued to prepare me, stretching me slowly but deliberately. He never rushed this part—he wanted me to feel every inch, every sensation, like it was the only thing that mattered.