Chapter 5

Aiden

My heart hammered in my chest the second I read the words.

It was him.

Curious X.

The bold, reckless sub who’d challenged me days ago—the one whose voice had been knotted with both defiance and need—was Noah Blake. My new player. The rookie quarterback with the chip on his shoulder and tension stitched into every movement.

I should’ve shut this down. That would’ve been the smart, ethical, professional thing to do. But I’d never pretended to be a good man.

The moment he told me about his shitty day—one I’d engineered, start to finish—my stomach twisted with guilt… and then tightened with something darker.

Pride.

Possessive, electric pride.

Oh yeah, that was more like it… My cock began to swell.

He’d unraveled. Just like I wanted. And then he’d run straight to me.

But his next message… that hit different.

It was honest. Raw.

And I wasn’t ready for the quiet kind of pain it carried, and something inside of me switched into protective mode.

ME:

You’re not supposed to be normal.

That’s not what your body was made for.

You are special and stronger than you know.

You were built for tension. For resistance.

For discipline.

And you know it.

I watched the typing bubble flicker.

Curious X:

I don’t know any of that.

How can you?

ME:

I told you what I wanted from the start, and you came back for more.

Not with a mask this time.

You showed me the real you.

I’m a stranger—but somehow, you’re letting me in.

Curious X:

Pathetic, right?

ME:

Brave.

Ballsy.

When you pretended to be someone else, I was intrigued.

Now that I know more?

I’m invested.

There was a pause. A longer one.

I leaned back in my hotel chair, phone in hand, picturing him just down the hall—probably pacing, biting his lip, trying to calm the chaos in his chest.

And I’d caused it.

Curious X:

I thought about you today.

Before I even realized it, I was picturing your voice.

Like it was the only thing keeping me from cracking.

ME:

And now?

Curious X:

I’m still cracking.

Just quieter about it.

ME:

That’s not weakness.

That’s pressure with no release.

And that’s why you need rules.

Someone to make sure you follow them.

No more spiraling.

No more punishing yourself for needing control.

I could almost feel his breath hitch.

Curious X:

I’ve never told anyone this much.

Not even friends.

No one ever asked.

Why did you?

ME:

Because you needed me to.

You wanted me to know.

So I can take over.

And I will…

If you let me.

His next message didn’t come right away. But I waited. I had a feeling it was going to be a turning point.

Curious X:

I want to.

I want to let you.

And I know this sounds fucked up, but…

I want to meet.

In person.

My jaw clenched.

Fuck.

For a second—just one—I considered it. The rawness in his messages. The vulnerability. It stirred something protective in me. Dangerous.

But I couldn’t let that happen. Not yet.

ME:

You’re not ready.

And I don’t cross lines unless I know what waits on the other side.

Keep writing.

Keep breathing.

Keep obeying.

We’ll meet when the time is right.

I stared at the screen, resisting the urge to say more.

The truth was—I already knew what waited on the other side.

But I couldn’t afford to fall into it.

Not when the only thing more dangerous than training him…

was wanting him.

Curious X:

I can’t talk anymore then.

And just like that, he was gone.

I cursed under my breath. I was playing with fire, and I damn well knew it.

One wrong move—one slip—and I could lose everything. If he figured out who I was and decided to take it to the board, my career would be over.

But something told me he wouldn’t. I was ninety percent sure—maybe a little less—that he wanted this. Maybe even needed it as badly as I did.

And I was willing to take that risk.

In due time.

Noah’s steps lagged slightly behind mine as we rounded the hotel corridor. I didn’t have to look back to know his eyes were on me. The tension between us—hot, brittle, and just beneath the surface—was tighter than ever.

“You look tired, rookie,” I said, not bothering to glance over.

He grunted. “Didn’t sleep great.”

“Huh.”

I stopped walking. Turned slightly.

“You didn’t spend half the night glued to your phone, did you?”

That earned me a flicker of his usual bravado. “What if I did? Doesn’t seem like your business, Coach.”

I took a slow step toward him. Another.

“It becomes my business when your performance drops under my watch.”

Pause.

“And I’d call falling asleep in my staff meeting a fucking drop.”

His jaw tightened, eyes sharp—but not combative. Not really.

“I didn’t fall asleep.”

“You blinked longer than most people dream.”

He shifted his weight, suddenly defensive.

“I wasn’t on my phone…. I was jet-lagged.”

I stepped in. Close enough to smell the lingering citrus from his morning shower. My voice dropped to a whisper.

“Good boys don’t lie.”

His breath caught. He blinked up at me, flushed, torn between the desire to bite back and the part of him that craved just this.

I didn’t touch him. I didn’t have to. The tension stretched so tight between us it hummed.

“You’re mine to train on the field, Blake. Don’t make me train you out of it too.”

Then I walked off—slow, deliberate steps—leaving him standing there with the heat of shame and something else crawling under his skin.

He stayed away the rest of the afternoon, the opposite of what my entire body craved. Somehow, I was getting addicted to his tension and the subtle shifts in his body when I pushed his buttons, so I decided to have a little fun.

After dinner, I called him into the lounge suite attached to my room—strictly business, of course. He showed up in joggers and a hoodie, damp curls still clinging to his forehead from the shower, looking like the picture of rebellion in disguise—and, fuck, the most annoyingly tempting thing I’d laid eyes on. The kind of temptation that made me want to ruin him, in a good way.

I motioned to the seat across from me.

"Sit."

He sat—slowly. Arms crossed. Jaw tense.

Good.

I picked up the file beside me and began.

“You’re here on a training assignment. That means you’ll assist in whatever I need handled. Which includes, but isn’t limited to—”

I flipped a page, glancing at him deliberately.

“—printing the updated briefing notes and having them highlighted on my desk by 9:00 a.m. sharp. Memorizing the team doctor’s report before tomorrow’s rehab consult. I’ll quiz you. And during player evaluations, you’ll be by my side. Observing. Quietly. Asking nothing.”

His mouth parted.

“You serious right now?” He snapped. “I’m not your fucking secretary.”

The heat in his voice was almost sweet. Almost cute.

I leaned forward, hands folded.

“You’re on this trip because of me. You are on this team because of me. You wanna stay? Then you fulfill whatever’s required.”

He tried to get up. I didn’t move, but my tone cut the air like glass.

“Sit down.”

He froze—then lowered himself again, slower this time.

I stood and circled behind him.

“You want to be a great quarterback, Blake? Then you train what’s lacking. Right now, that’s discipline.”

I stopped just behind him, close enough that my voice could slide over his skin like silk.

“In the morning, we’ll work on your body. Full gym, 7 a.m. sharp. But right now? Your attitude needs the workout.”

He didn’t move.

“You want to learn what it takes to lead?” I asked, low and firm.

He gave a reluctant nod.

“Then follow orders.”

His throat bobbed. “Yes… Sir.”

I smiled.

“Good. Then let’s begin.”

As he stood and walked out, head high but ears tinged red, I let my gaze linger.

The real game had just begun.