Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Noah

No matter how firmly I had resolved to see this through—how determined I was to dive as deep as necessary into whatever rabbit hole he was leading me down—my body stubbornly refused to cooperate. It seemed like it hadn’t received the memo at all.

The moment he uttered the words—“Undress for me”—an internal alarm blared inside me, flashing red like a firetruck barreling through a quiet street.

What?

Just that single word echoed sharply in my mind, shrill and frantic, like a glitch scrambling the signals in my brain.

He repeated the command, his tone eerily calm. Deadly calm.

“Take your clothes off. Every last piece. Slowly. I want to taste you.”

And just like that, my pride barged in uninvited, like an obnoxious guest carrying a grudge.

“I’m not some piece of meat… Sir.”

He didn’t flinch.

“You are, if that’s what I need you to be.” His voice was a paradox—steel wrapped in silk. “But this isn’t about tasting your body, Noah. It’s about tasting your obedience. From this moment on, you will do exactly as I say, to the best of your ability. Take it or leave it. There’s no middle ground. Do you want to reconsider your earlier decision?”

I didn’t.

I had already made up my mind.

The moment I signed that contract.

The instant I stepped through that hotel door.

When I chose to follow him here instead of running away.

My nerves were on fire, but still, I lifted the hem of my shirt. Clumsy, hesitant—my hands felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else—but I didn’t stop.

The slow jazz playing softly in the background helped. Its easy rhythm seemed to guide me, offering an anchor as my world spun sideways.

Alright, here we go.

He believed in all or nothing.

And for reasons I still didn’t fully understand,

I wanted it all.

Now, I stood stripped down to my boxers. This was the moment when vulnerability hit—not just exposure, but raw, naked vulnerability. My spine tingled, and my chest tightened—not because I wanted to stop, but because I craved belonging. I wanted him to see past the brat who pushed back, to recognize that I could obey, even if it meant dragging myself through every uncomfortable, awkward moment.

Just like I was doing right now.

Heart pounding as if I’d just sprinted drills under the scorching Texas sun, I stood there. My skin burned—not entirely from embarrassment, maybe just a little—but mostly from the weight of his gaze.

He remained seated, legs casually spread, one arm draped over the recliner’s armrest like a king watching a gladiator audition for his life.

I swallowed hard. This was the part where I was supposed to make it sexy.

Right. Easy.

I let my fingers slowly trail up my thighs—more for show than any real seduction skills—and hooked them around the waistband of my boxers. This was it. One deep breath.