Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Noah

Who did he think he was, really?

I should have stormed out of that room, slammed the door so hard it echoed down the hall, and told him exactly where to stick his clipboard—

But I didn’t.

Instead, I walked out like a soldier following orders, my chin lifted, ears burning with humiliation, and my heart stammering in that maddening rhythm that only happened when he was near. That voice of his… the way it slid over my skin and sank into my spine like a hook—I hated it. I hated that I was drawn to it.

Mr. A had completely thrown me off balance.

For weeks, I’d been caught up in fantasies about him. Dreaming of being under his hands, hanging on every word he said, surrendering control I hadn’t even admitted I was clinging to. I craved every dark promise he whispered during those late-night conversations.

But this? Wanting Coach Mercer? That was something else entirely.

That was dangerous territory.

Yet every time he barked orders, every time his gaze landed on me like I was a lump of clay he intended to mold—I felt it. That low, unwelcome tug. That burning heat.

And yeah, a small part of me still wondered. Still dared to entertain the impossible. What if Mr. A and Coach Mercer were the same person? Two names for the same pair of sharp, grey eyes?

If that were true, I was completely, utterly screwed.

I forced myself out of bed earlier than I wanted. Sleep had been elusive anyway. My mind was a battlefield, and my body felt worse.

By 6 a.m. sharp, I was already at the hotel gym, pounding the treadmill, trying to sweat out every twisted thought I shouldn’t be having. I was here to play football—not to obsess over some messed-up feelings I didn’t even understand. I wasn’t that kind of guy. I didn’t need a Dom. I didn’t need Coach Mercer telling me how to breathe, think, or behave.

And yet…

My chest tightened the moment I heard the gym door open.

I glanced up.

He entered like a storm cloaked in black—still damp from the shower, hair tousled, carrying that sharp scent of mint and authority. His eyes scanned me slowly, appraising, weighing.

Approval flickered in his gaze.

Good boy.

He never said it aloud. He didn’t need to. I felt it in every nerve ending.

And damn it—my heart skipped a beat again.

With deliberate slowness, he made his way to the weights as if he owned the place. Like he owned me. He grabbed a clipboard, tapped it once against his palm, then fixed me with a look that promised I was the next thing he intended to break.

“Off the treadmill.”

I nearly rolled my eyes. But I didn’t. Not when I caught that gleam in his eyes. Not when my body reacted like it actually liked being spoken to that way.

I slowed the belt and stepped off, wiping sweat from my neck with the towel draped over my shoulder.

“Warm-up’s done,” he said. “Time to train the parts that really matter.”

I swallowed hard. “What, like abs?”

His lips twitched—just enough to be dangerous. “Control.”

Before I could ask what the hell that meant, he threw me a pair of resistance bands and pointed to the floor. “Plank holds. One minute. When I say switch, you crawl to the next station. No resting until I say so—then your ass starts over.”

My chest tightened. “You serious?”

His gaze dropped briefly to my waist, then slid back up slowly. “Do I look like I’m playing, Blake?”

No. No, he didn’t.

I dropped into a plank, biting back a groan. Every inch of me screamed—from yesterday’s travel, from the tension, from the relentless thoughts about him—them—and now he was putting me through this?

“One minute,” he said calmly, stepping closer. “You flinch, we restart. You collapse, we add push-ups. You get mouthy…”

I gritted my teeth. “You brought me.”

His smirk deepened as he circled behind me again. “Exactly. As my assistant, remember? But you’re not my fucking secretary, right? You’re a player, and you wanted to sweat, correct? Well, I’m gonna make you sweat.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My legs were locked in a wall sit, muscles shaking, breath shallow.

“Let me tell you how it’s gonna be, boy,” he whispered just behind my ear. “From now on, I’m watching you. Closely. I’m going to push you. Correct you. Monitor what you eat, how you sleep, how you train… and how you respond.”

My chest tightened. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t have to be.

“I’m going to break you down, piece by piece,” he said, turning to face me. “Not to destroy you, Blake—but to build you into the man you’re too afraid to become.”

His eyes burned into mine.

“Discipline. Control. Obedience. That’s what separates a player from a leader. And make no mistake…” His voice dropped low and dark. “I will lead you there. Even if I have to drag you.”

I didn’t say a word.

I couldn’t.

Because part of me wanted to fight back.

And part of me wanted to drop to my knees and whisper, Please.

But I did neither.

My knees nearly gave out as I pushed harder, determined to prove to him that breaking me wouldn’t be easy. But beneath my shaky exterior, I could already see the tiniest crack forming.

By the time we finished, I was soaked through with sweat, muscles trembling, pride in tatters—and somehow, all I could think about was him.

The way he looked at me. The way he spoke to me. The way he saw right through me.

I was here to become a quarterback.

But I was starting to think he had something else in mind entirely.