Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Noah

The locker room was thick with an unspoken tension, the kind that everyone sensed but no one dared to address aloud. As I entered the showers, a few guys gave my shoulder a tentative clap or offered a hesitant nod—the kind of awkward gestures guys make when they’re unsure whether to be impressed or worried. Not a single word was exchanged; none was necessary.

Miguel approached me, a towel casually draped around his neck, his mouth curling into that unmistakable, “holy shit” grin. “Blake, seriously, I don’t know what surprises me more—your Terminator-level stamina or Keon finally growing a backbone right before our eyes. Looks like Drama 101 started early this semester.”

I let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “It’s whatever. I’m the team’s charity case, remember? Coach expects me to perform like a beast, or else it’s his ass on the line.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow. “Well, beast mode definitely activated. Still… he was pushing you like you owed him rent. You holding up okay?”

I forced a smile, but lied. “I’m fine.”

“Good, because we’re hitting town later. Pizza, soda, and your public humiliation from today—standard team bonding stuff. You in?”

I shook my head. “Can’t make it. Maybe next time.”

Miguel rolled his eyes, clearly skeptical. “One of these days, Blake, I swear I’ll crack that brooding lone-wolf act you’re rocking. Until then, I’ll save you a slice. Don’t make me eat your pepperoni.”

I shot him a sideways glance, barely suppressing a laugh. “That sounded way more threatening than you probably meant it.”

“Or exactly as threatening as I meant,” he shot back with a wink before strolling away.

The drive back to Coach’s house was silent. I stared out the window, watching the trees blur past as the sweat dried and started to itch beneath my shirt. But it wasn’t the discomfort that had me shifting in my seat. My mind kept replaying the scene.

Aiden and Keon. Alone.

The door closing behind them.

The expression on Keon’s face when he walked out.

What on earth had gone down between those two? My stomach twisted painfully. I wasn’t supposed to care, but I did.

When we pulled into the driveway, I couldn’t hold back any longer. “What did you do with Keon?” I asked, trying—and failing—to keep the jealousy out of my voice.

Aiden’s eyes flicked to mine, cold and unreadable. “That’s none of your business.”

His words hit harder than they should have. I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodded, and kept quiet as we stepped inside.

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, he turned to me. “From now on,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “the second you walk into this house, you strip.”

“Turn around,” he ordered, voice low but commanding. He snatched the sponge from my trembling hand. “Hands on the wall.”

Without hesitation, I obeyed, placing both hands against the slick tile. My breath hitched as I felt him close behind me. His hand glided across my shoulder blades, slow and careful. The sponge followed, warm and soft, lathering along my spine, circling every tight muscle until I couldn’t help but groan.

He didn’t say a word, just kept washing. Down my back, along my sides, over my hips. I gasped when his leg slid between mine, forcing them apart with his bare foot. Vulnerable and exposed, with him behind me, naked and in control… yet when the sponge brushed over my ass—both soothing and sinful—I relaxed completely under his touch. He lingered there, fingers replacing the sponge for a moment—long enough to make my knees wobble—before running it boldly down between my legs. I bit my lip hard, tasting blood.

“You did well today,” he murmured. His hand slid between my thighs, urging me open further. The sponge moved with slow precision, washing me like I was something precious, but it felt like something else entirely.

“This is your reward for your trust,” he whispered, so close I could feel his breath on my skin.

He spun me around. I was fully hard, utterly helpless. His eyes roamed down, admiring my erection. He traced the sponge down my chest, then lower, circling my navel, grazing the aching line of my cock without touching it. My breath caught. My body instinctively leaned into his.

Then, finally, his lips met mine. Soft, controlled. The kiss deepened slowly, like he was tasting me for the first time, deciding if I was everything he wanted. His hand slid to my jaw, guiding me, then to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

I whimpered into his mouth, a sound I hadn’t meant to make but didn’t care anymore. His tongue met mine, teasing and demanding, stretching the moment—long, hot, and utterly consuming. I forgot where we were. I forgot everything.

He broke the kiss with a gentle nip on my bottom lip, then whispered, “Rinse off. Meet me in the bedroom.”

And just like that, he stepped out, leaving me shaking, flushed, and harder than I’d ever been in my life.