Page 22 of Bagging the Blueliner
My anger for her careless actions renewed, I poured a second glass of water before snagging a bottle of ibuprofen and heading back upstairs. Placing the items on the bedside table, I carefully dropped my body into the lounge chair once more.
Not carefully enough, because I was unable to stop the pained sound from escaping when my elbow hit the armrest, sending a shock wave up to my bad shoulder. I tried to stifle it, but it was too late.
Hannah’s body began shifting, signaling she was moments away from waking up. I was suddenly very aware that she was in my bed while I sat in the corner watching like a creeper.
Raising her hands above her head, the sheets fell to her waist as she groaned, stretching her body. Silky brown curls fanned around her head like a halo, one side of her cheek pink and marked with pillow creases. Even with the smudged makeup around her eyes, she was stunning.
What I wouldn’t give to wake up with her in my bed for real.
Keep dreaming, Cal.
Hannah’s blue eyes opened, and when awareness dawned that she didn’t recognize the room she was in, her body bolted upright. Then, those brilliant baby blues locked on where I sat, and the temperature of the room dropped twenty degrees.
“What the fuck?” Looking down and realizing she was wearing my clothes, she yelled, “And what am I wearing?!”
Rubbing a hand over the stubble along my jaw, I sighed. “Calm down, Hannah. You drank too much and passed out on our way out of the club. I don’t know where you live, and even if I did, how would I get in? My place was only a couple of blocks away, so I brought you home. You got the bed. I slept in this chair. That’s it.”
Plucking the fabric of the black T-shirt away from her body, she accused, “You changed my clothes.”
“Are you really complaining about me making you more comfortable?” I shot back.
Narrowing her eyes, she challenged, “Did you violate me, Berg?”
Oh, for the love of God.
My temper flared, but I tried to keep it in check. “Jesus, Hannah. Get over yourself. I did not ‘violate’ you.” I used air quotes for effect.
Running a hand under the sheets, she twisted her lips in thought. “I’m not sore, but that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe you have a small dick.”
I growled at the intentional insult to my manhood. “Trust me, if I had been between your legs, you wouldn’t be able to walk for a solid twenty-four hours.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly the type of bravado you would expect from a guy with a tiny penis. Big ego, flashy car—the evidence is mounting for overcompensation.”
She knew exactly which buttons to press, and I snapped, roaring, “For the last time, Hannah, I didn’t fuck you!”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I should probably head straight to the ER to be examined for signs of assault and tested for STDs. God only knows where that micropenis has been.”
My hands curled into fists. I wanted to strangle her. She was provoking me, and she damn well knew it.
I didn’t know what was worse, Hannah thinking I had a small dick or the agony of knowing she thought about it in the first place.
Eyes widening, she scrambled out of bed with alarming urgency. Instinct took over, and I stood quickly, ignoring my muscles screaming in pain.
Scanning her body clad only in my shirt—so long it reached mid-thigh on her—I asked in a panic, “What? What’s wrong?”
Giving the bed a look, she wrinkled her nose. “It just hit me how unsanitary your bed must be. All the dirty, desperate bunnies you bring home.” She pretended to gag to emphasize her point.
Closing my eyes, I prayed for the patience to deal with this infuriating woman. Taking a calming breath, I opened them, replying, “I don’t bring women home.”
Placing both hands on her hips, Hannah scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Like I’m supposed to believe that?”
I shrugged. “That’s what the bathrooms at the club are for.”
“That’s disgusting.”
Her words said one thing, but I noted the way her breathing hitched and her pupils dilated. The idea of being railed quick and dirty against a wall turned her on. I made a mental note to remember that, even though I would never have a chance to put the knowledge to use.
“Let me take you home,” I offered.
