Chapter 18
Noah
Let’s get one thing clear: I wasn’t saying yes.
I wasn’t submitting.
I wasn’t agreeing to anything except maybe… considering the possibility of asking some questions. For information purposes only
Right.
But if I was curious–if I was even remotely open to beating him out–it was only because he’d made it sound so… not like the porn version of BDSM I’d seen in movies. And honestly? That version always looked like it required a safe word, a chiropractor, and maybe an ambulance.
This?
This felt different. Controlled. Intense. Powerful.
Also… fuck me,
the man smelled like control.
Still. I wasn’t saying yes.
I just didn’t say no.
And I might’ve looked at him like he’d invented fire and offered to teach me how to roast marshmallows on it. But that was just… curiosity. Normal, totally platonic, academically interested curiosity. Except that, for some anatomically rebellious reason, my growing cock was not getting the platonic memo just
yet.
So when he gave me that slow, approving nod like I’d passed some invisible test, I didn’t let it go to my head.
Much.
He stood up–graceful like a damn panther in a tailored suit–and walked to the drawer by the desk.
I watched him move. Sue me.
The way his muscles flexed under his shirt, the precision of his posture… it did things to me. Irrational things. Things that didn’t feel very straight.
He took out a folder. Thick. Neat. Dark blue. Fancy–ass paper.
“Next,” he said, placing it gently on the table between us, “you read this.”
I blinked. He couldn’t be serious.
Spoiler: He was.
“It’s a contract,” he continued. “Non–binding for now. You don’t sign anything tonight. You take it with you. You read all of it. You study it if you have to. And you come back with questions–real questions.”
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1:25 pm P P P м
Chapter 18
I stared at the folder like it was going to sprout legs and climb up my shirt.
A contract. For this. For me.
I was pretty sure my soul left my body for a second.
He didn’t flinch. “It outlines expectations. Hard limits. Soft limits. Safe words. Responsibilities–yours and mine. You’ll see my structure, my protocol, my
rules. What’s negotiable. What isn’t.”
Holy shit! He brought up the safe word part…! This was as fun as it was unsettling.
Let the record show that I still hadn’t moved. Still hadn’t said yes.
But I was breathing shallowly.
My pupils might’ve been blown wide.
And my brain? Yeah… it was somewhere between “run away screaming” and “rip your clothes off and beg for discipline.”
God help me, a part of me hoped there’d be a sex chapter.
“Knowledge is power, Noah,” he said, locking eyes with me like he could see the storm in my head. “I won’t take control from you–you’ll give it to me. But only if you understand exactly what that means.”
Let it also be known I didn’t touch the folder.
But I wanted to.
Not because I was convinced. Not because I was ready.
Because for the first time in forever, someone was offering me something that wasn’t bullshit. Something dangerous and terrifying… but maybe exactly what I’d been looking for without realizing it.
Also? If this “not–only–sexual lifestyle” didn’t somehow end with me on my knees for him, begging for things I didn’t even have names for yet… I was going to be very, very disappointed.
So yeah.
I stared at the folder like it was a grenade wrapped in silk.
Because maybe… it was.
I took it in the end.
Of course I did.
And for the next four–no, maybe five–definitely six hours, I read that thing cover to cover like my entire existence depended on it.
Let’s be clear: I didn’t understand half of it. But I read it. Thoroughly. With Google open, incognito tab enabled, and one hand occasionally slapping my own
forehead.
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Crossing Lines
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
