Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29

His domain.

2500

Damn, being a baseball star must pay way more than I ever imagined.

He punched in a code, and the gate slid open effortlessly. We drove up the winding driveway, passing neatly trimmed hedges and a small, bubbling fountain before arriving at the grand entrance of the house.

“Every weekend,” he said softly, his voice low and steady. “From Friday evening until Monday morning, this is where we’ll come. No distractions. No prying eyes. Just you, me, and the work ahead of us.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling deep inside me. “Yes, Sir.”

The inside of the house was even more striking than the outside—intense in its quiet power.

Not a thing out of place. Everything spotless, elegant, deliberately chosen. A massive fireplace dominated one wall, flanked by two leather chairs that looked both inviting and commanding. Along another wall, trophies and certificates stood proudly on display—silent testaments to everything he had achieved. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined a third wall, filled with books that spoke of dedication and discipline. On a side table, almost like a cherished relic, rested a worn football—scuffed, signed, clearly treasured.

This was his sanctuary.

This was where he thrived.

And now… I was a part of it.

He set his keys down on a nearby counter and turned toward me. “I’m going to shower. While I’m gone, I want you to wait for me.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wait?”

He stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “Exactly like I taught you. Kneeling. Good posture. Ready to serve. I want to come out and find you just as you should be.”

That word again—should. It sparked a fire deep in my chest.

“Yes, Sir.”

He didn’t smile, but his hand brushed my jaw softly, just once, before he turned and walked away.

I stood frozen for a moment longer than necessary, my whole body humming with anticipation. Then, moving deliberately, I positioned myself right in front of the fireplace, dropped to my knees, and folded my hands behind my back.

He moved as if the air around him parted to make way, each step quiet and confident. His eyes locked with mine, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

God.

I might never have labeled myself as gay, but this? This was beyond labels. This was about beauty. Power. Perfection.

He was built like a god and carried himself like one too, and I… I was just a mortal on my knees.

He didn’t say a word at first. Instead, he moved to the shelf beside the fireplace and selected a vinyl record with practiced ease. I watched as he slid it from its sleeve, placed it carefully on the turntable, and lowered the needle.

Smooth jazz filled the room, crackling softly to life—a slow, rich melody full of promise. Something like Miles Davis or Chet Baker, though I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that the music seeped into my bones, melting through me.

Then he approached, eyes heavy with something that made my heart race.

His fingertips brushed my cheek—a mere whisper of a touch. Then, with fluid grace, he sank into the recliner and crossed one leg over the other.

His voice came low and quiet, deep and velvety.