Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 113

Chapter 113

Noah

By the time Saturday evening rolled around, I was feeling utterly drained. Aside from the conversation we had—one I was still determined to rise above by proving my worth—Friday night had given me exactly what I needed. We ordered Chinese food—yes, Chinese—and get this: we actually ate it on the couch. Like we shattered every rule in a single evening. Well, at least he did. I’ve spent my entire life eating on couches, except when my dad was home for dinner, and then we’d sit awkwardly at the table, silence hanging thick between us. But sitting beside him, watching some silly movie, laughing until my ribs ached, leaning into him like ordinary people do—except for the fact that I was completely naked—felt like the closest thing to a “date” we’d ever shared.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he decided to show mercy.

Afterward, we tidied the kitchen together—me drying the dishes while he stacked them carefully. I was buzzing with a mixture of contentment and guilt swirling inside me. By the time we finally went to bed, the weight of it all became too much to hold in.

I reached up, grabbed the riding crop hanging on the wall, and brought it over to him, placing it gently in his hand. Then, I knelt at the foot of the bed, lowering my forehead in a gesture of submission.

He cocked his head, one brow raised. “And what’s this for?”

My throat tightened, but I forced the words out. “I’ve earned two strikes, Sir. One for cursing earlier. And the second… for kissing you without your permission.”

His eyes caught the dim light, sparkling with something unreadable, but his voice remained calm and smooth. “Tempting.”

He leaned in, pressing the crop flat against my bare chest before tossing it onto the bed behind me.

“But I think I have a better punishment in mind this time.”

Before I could even catch my breath, he pushed me back, pinning me against the mattress with his full weight. His mouth crashed onto mine—rough, demanding, and utterly claiming.

Later still, we played Scrabble at the kitchen table. Of course, he won—the smug bastard—but not before I argued that “yo” and “bruh” were legitimate words. He raised an eyebrow, handed me the dictionary without a word, and I lost the battle.

Lunch was simple and comfortable. We both stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and sneaking bites off each other’s plates. Afterward, we settled side by side, soft music drifting from the speaker as I pretended to read but mostly just watched him. His broad shoulders were relaxed for once, and it almost felt normal. Too normal.

The weight pressing on my chest only grew heavier as the day wore on. But it wasn’t until evening that everything shifted.

He came to me in the bedroom, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“Help me dress,” he said quietly.

The outfit was unmistakable—the Dominium side of him revealed in every buckle, clasp, and gleaming strip of leather. My hands trembled slightly as I fastened the straps across his chest, the harness fitting snugly, the polished vest wrapping around him like armor.