Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 245

Chapter 245

Aiden

We arrived home well after midnight, the cool night air still clinging to my skin, mingling with the lingering rush of adrenaline from the performance. The energy buzzed within me, a steady pulse that refused to fade. Micah trailed a few steps behind, quiet now, stripped of the vibrant stage persona he had worn earlier. Instead, he was the gentle, obedient presence I had once known more intimately than anyone else.

I hadn’t planned for what came next. Micah had driven himself here earlier, so I assumed he would simply drive back. But as we reached the doorway, he hesitated, his posture stiffening.

“Sir,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would you allow me to stay? Just… like before. Nothing more. I won’t ask for anything. I only—”

He swallowed hard, searching for the right words.

“I just want to be where you are tonight.”

I should have refused. I should have remembered the boundaries I’d set long ago. But exhaustion weighed heavily on me, and after everything—the intensity of the night, the few drinks he’d had—I knew it wasn’t safe for him to get behind the wheel again. A part of me also didn’t want him to leave.

“…Yes,” I answered quietly. “You can stay.”

Micah didn’t smile, but I sensed a subtle easing within him, a small relief that softened the tension in his shoulders.

He moved to help me out of my jacket first, folding it with care and precision. Then he slid my shirt off my shoulders. His touch was nothing like that of a lover’s. It was reverent, almost sacred—deliberate and thoughtful, as if he was honoring a history between us, the weight of unspoken memories.

When he gently pulled the fabric away, his breath slowed, and his eyes lifted to meet mine. The space between us seemed to shrink, charged with a familiar, dangerous electricity. He leaned in, close enough that I could feel his breath ghosting over my lips. For a brief moment, we lingered there—suspended in a fragile silence.

But I couldn’t cross that line.

Not with the grief lodged so tightly in my chest.

Not with Noah’s ghost haunting the room.

Everything had spiraled too far. Every sacrifice, every lie, every plan I had made—it had all been for him. My original intention had been simple: take the fall. Admit I’d crossed a boundary with a player, accept the fallout, lose my job, face disgrace. If Noah pressed charges, even prison. Then make sure he never had to follow me down that path. Protect his career, his future, his family.

It had seemed logical. Even if Noah now believed he wanted to choose me over the NFL, I knew deep down he might resent me for it someday.

But then I remembered what he had done for me—accepting William’s deal alone, thinking he was protecting me.

Suddenly, it all became painfully clear.

This wasn’t a decision for me alone.

Nor was it his alone.

It was ours.

If Noah truly wanted me more than anything else—then to hell with every rule, every plan, every consequence. I could still take the blame. No more football for me? Fine. But he could sign with a different team, far away from William. And why couldn’t I go with him? If he didn’t mind keeping us a secret, why should I? I loved him. So much it felt foolish. If he wanted me in every hidden hotel room, every shadowed hallway, every city we found ourselves in—I would take that gladly. I would rather be his shadow than live without him.

The realization struck me with a dizzying warmth, filling me with life.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips—not to his mouth, but to his forehead.

A blessing.

A farewell.

“It’s been a long night,” I murmured. “Go take the guest room.”

Micah’s eyes flickered with a mix of pain, acceptance, and devotion.

For the first time in weeks, I exhaled without pain. I had a plan for tomorrow—a plan that included both of us, if that was still what he wanted. But right now, in my dream, I was already holding him, cradling him.

Sleep drew me deeper, and the dream shifted.

Warmth pressed against my body. An arm wrapped around my back, fingers tracing the curve of my hips. Lips brushed my shoulder—soft, familiar—the kind of touch that didn’t ask permission because it already belonged. I leaned into it instinctively, my body recognizing the presence before my mind could.

His mouth found my neck, leaving slow, lingering kisses up to my jaw. I breathed out, sinking into the weight of him. In the dream, there was no need to think. No need to choose. Only feeling.

I pressed closer, half-asleep, half-aware, my hand threading through the back of his hair. Our breaths mingled; our foreheads touched.

“My baby boy…” I whispered, soft, reverent, aching.

He kissed me—light at first, then deeper—stirring something loose inside me. My hips moved without thought, seeking him, craving the closeness we had been starving for. The dream wrapped around me like warmth, like relief, like coming home.

I held him tighter.

As I felt his teasing as real as daylight—his warmth, his naked body intertwined with mine—I responded as I had so many times before, grinding toward him, our bodies moving together. He moaned against me, trembling, his hands pulling me impossibly close. His lips trailed gentle kisses down my chest, my stomach…

Oh, baby, yes—please… I pleaded in my sleep, feeling him go lower, his hot mouth engulfing me, driving me to the edge of madness…

My boy. My undoing…

I surrendered to it all, taking it in completely. And never once did I realize…

…the body pressed against mine

was not Noah’s at all.