Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Aiden

There it was—the spark I had deliberately allowed to ignite, accompanied by a clear warning. But this time, it wasn’t some careless flare-up or a slip in my control.

No, this was intentional.

Every single gesture I’d made today—from the silence I maintained to the piercing stares, to the cold, detached distance I kept—had been carefully planned. Calculated. Necessary.

Perhaps the moment in the shower was less about Noah and more a test for me—a test that still throbbed painfully somewhere between my heart and my gut.

I had deliberately fanned the flames inside him, fully aware of where it would lead. Because it wasn’t just Noah teetering on the edge anymore.

I was there too. I still demanded an explanation. An apology.

I had constructed this moment with painstaking care. Every layered feeling, every sting of guilt, every unanswered look had built up to this. Now was the time to unleash the beasts—his and mine.

To see if he would bare his teeth… or kneel.

For a brief second, he stood frozen, fists clenched tightly at his sides, lips parted as if the words were stuck in his throat. But I could sense the storm brewing—growing stronger with every uneven breath he took.

“Thank you, Sir,” he finally said, his voice sharp and clipped, as if the words had been dipped in acid. “Since I’ve been dying to get this off my chest all fucking day, let me just say—”

I raised a hand to cut him off. “Careful.”

He stopped mid-sentence, narrowing his eyes.

“I said you could speak, not curse at me. That’s a warning, not a count. You know the rules, Noah. Swearing at me is the highest form of disrespect in this dynamic. Break it again, and I start counting. Understood?”

The tension between us tightened, taut and trembling in the charged air.

“You never told me that rule before, and I thought you said I could talk freely, Sir. What kind of freedom is this if I have to watch every word I say?” His hands shook, frustration evident in his voice.

I tilted my head slightly. “Maybe you should reread the contract, Noah. Freedom to speak doesn’t mean freedom to disrespect.”

His jaw clenched tightly, but he held his tongue.

“I gave you space to express your feelings, not a license to lash out. You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to be confused, upset, even hurt. But you’re not allowed to forget who I am to you in the process.”

I stepped forward just enough to make my words hit harder.

“I’ll always give you the truth, Noah. But not at the cost of discipline. You want to talk? Then talk. But if you throw a tantrum, then yes… I will count.”

“That’s bullshit—” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

“One,” I interrupted, voice calm but firm.

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I just warned you about your tone and language. That’s one.”

The disbelief on his face was almost amusing. Almost. But this wasn’t a game, and I wasn’t about to let his temper dictate mine. Not now. Not here.

“Oh, come on! That was just an expression! That doesn’t count…” He stared at me, incredulous.

“Oh, it does. And I just counted it.”

“Oh my God, seriously?” His voice rose, cracking under the strain. “I’ve been following your rules. Done everything you asked. You ghost me all day, treat me like I’m invisible, and when I finally speak, I get punished for it?”

“You’re not being punished for talking or for what you’ve done,” I said, still steady. “Not yet.”

That was the final straw.

“No? Because it sure as hell feels like it! The silent treatment, the guilt trip, the shit you pulled in the showers—and now this? You’re punishing me for last night, and you haven’t even told me what the hell I did wrong!”

“Two.”

Micah had stood in the same place once. Different house. Different pain. But the same look in his eyes. The same disbelief.

I had let him go. Told myself it was what he needed.

Told myself I was too broken to be more than a Dominant.

And when the door closed behind him, I hadn’t felt noble. I had felt empty.

Now, Noah—this stubborn, bratty, brilliant boy—was about to do the same.

And I was terrified.

Because I knew this time, I wouldn’t recover.

My voice dropped to a low, steady tone. “Think very carefully about what you do next. If you leave now, Noah… it’s over.”

And I meant it.

This wasn’t just about last night—not about the way he’d spoken to me, not about the contract. It was about trust. Control. Submission.

But more than anything, it was about peace—about protecting his heart… and mine.

I felt for him. God help me, I was starting to care. And even if I appeared cold and composed on the outside, the truth was my heart fluttered every single day at the thought of him. He gave my life purpose again.

Just having him in it made everything feel less empty.

But I couldn’t keep tiptoeing around, afraid he’d leave the moment things got hard.

Just as he needed to trust me with his submission, I needed to trust that he would still choose it. Not the performance, but the surrender—even when it burned.

If he walked away now, it wouldn’t just be from this room. It would be from us. From everything we were trying to build. And we both knew it.

After several seconds that stretched into what felt like hours, he finally made his decision.