Page 53 of Bagging the Blueliner
“Is there a problem?” I raised an eyebrow.
Breaking my gaze, she twisted her hands in her lap. “I can’t go with an audience.”
Must be nice being a girl, where you didn’t have guys bracketing you while you peed in public places.
Striding forward, I bent down to grip her chin, forcing her to meet my eye. Hannah’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, unsure of my next move.
“That little stunt you pulled downstairs? It willneverhappen again. Do you understand?“ She nodded silently, so I continued, “If you want to fuck, tell me straight up. No more games.”
Licking her lips, Hannah hesitated before responding, “What if it’s not as hot when you’re not angry?”
I always knew she’d be a fucking fireball. “If me being angry helps get you off, get creative. No more innocent bystandersbeing thrown in the line of fire unless you want to cross conjugal visits off your bucket list.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
Releasing her face, I backed out of the bedroom with a smirk. “Good luck walking tomorrow.”
“Asshole,” Hannah muttered as I let myself out of her room.
She was right.
I was an asshole.
But I was her asshole.
And I was more than okay with that.
Chapter 14
Hannah
IlovedChristmas. I was one of those people who decorated before Halloween. That was how much I loved it.
It was tradition to spend Christmas Eve with Natalie and her kids. We always dressed in matching pajamas and had a sleepover waiting for Santa. The kids were adorable with how over-the-top excited they got, and the adults spent some quiet time together before the madness the next morning. There was baking and drinking. It was an all-around good time.
Since Natalie hooked up with Jaxon, that gathering had exploded in size and grandeur. What started out as Natalie, Amy, Liam, and I with the kids, now included Jaxon, of course, their daughter, Charlie, and also Preston and Lucy. Next Christmas, we would be joined by the little bundle of joy tucked securely in Lucy’s belly.
Their family was growing, and it was becoming more apparent with each passing year that I was single.
Unlike most women my age, my biological clock was decidedly not ticking. My closest girlfriends popping out kids was good enough for me. I could be the fun aunt and go home to my quiet apartment at the end of the day. Having the freedom to fuck in every room if I so chose at any given time was not something I would give up willingly. In fact, the very idea of a kid waking me up in the middle of the night with a bed-wetting or vomiting incident gave me chills.
No, thanks.
It worked for some women; it just wasn’t for me.
Christmas Eve was sacred for our chosen family, but Christmas Day demanded time spent with our biological families.
This was the first holiday season I spent not living with my parents. It was almost a relief, in a way. My sisters came into town with their families, so having my own place meant I only had to deal with them during dinner on Christmas Day.
I loved my sisters, but they were so much older than me that they thought they should have an opinion on how I lived my life. They thought their life experience was enough to “guide” me on the do’s and do nots. It was exhausting.
Taking a deep breath, I let myself into my parents’ house. Usually, the dogs were the only source of noise, but I was hit with a wall of sound the moment I opened the front door. Thundering footsteps could be heard around the massive house, layered with the voices of screaming children.
Those voices belonged to my nephews.
The great Ace Moreau was never blessed with a son to carry on his legacy, but he had six grandsons. The irony was that not one of them played hockey. It was such a waste, but my older sisters never took to the game like I did.
The six boys ranged in age from fourteen to two, and they were wild. Hockey would have done them good, but it wasn’t my place to say. You couldn’t overrule their parents.
