NFH Honeymoon from Hell II by R.L. Mathewson Page A

set
of clothes with whatever was out there or wear the towel, pretend
that the hotel was clean, the linen freshly washed and that she
wasn’t going to have to jump back in the shower first thing in the
morning and scrub her skin raw to kill whatever bacteria she’d
picked up during the night.
    Deciding that the idea of sleeping in her
clothes and then being forced to wear them tomorrow once they were
freshly coated in whatever that funky smell was coming from was not
for her, she resigned herself to scrubbing her skin off tomorrow
morning in the rust coated tub. She grabbed another threadbare
towel to use as an added layer of protection between her and the
chair and opened the bathroom door only to groan in disappointment
when she spotted Trevor, shirtless and asleep in her chair.
    Great, just great…
    For a few minutes she stood there,
contemplating shoving the large bastard off the chair and
reclaiming it as her own, but it would probably only earn her a
glare and another one of those apologies that made her want to beat
the shit out of him with one of the lumpy, yellow stained pillows
on the bed. Shooting him a glare of her own, she turned around and
carefully laid the towel on the bed and then added the one that she
was wearing, deciding that Trevor’s discarded shirt would have to
be sacrificed this night to save her skin from the questionable
stains and odors decorating the bedspread.
    Praying that she didn’t end up contracting
lice, bed bugs or worse, she walked over to where Trevor’s shirt
laid on the bureau and-
    “ I’m sorry,” he said,
wrapping his arms around her and pulled her against his warm body.
“I’m so sorry about this whole fucking trip, sweetheart,” he said,
kissing her bare shoulder before he added, “but don’t worry, I’ll
make it up to you.”
    Closing her eyes, she sighed, hating herself
for what she had to do, but he’d left her with no other choice, now
had he?

Chapter 13
    “ What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, doing
his best to avoid her next assault even as he tried his best not to
do anything that would make the crazed woman get hurt while she was
attacking him with the lumpiest pillow that he’d ever seen, or
rather, felt.
    “ Stop saying that you’re
sorry!” she yelled, landing an impressive blow to his back with the
pillow that was starting to give off the scent of urine, vomit and
some other unknown and equally offensive odor with every
blow.
    Unable to take another second of that
nauseating odor, he grabbed the pillow from his wife, pretending
that he didn’t notice the greasy texture coating the stained
pillowcase, and tossed it over his shoulder. “What the hell is
wrong with you, woman?” he demanded as he was forced to place
himself between her and the bed when she went to grab the other
pillow.
    “ Stop saying you’re sorry!”
she repeated with a vicious glare that had his balls pulling up
tight in a desperate attempt to get out of her reach.
    “ Why?” he snapped,
frustrated beyond belief that he had absolutely no idea what to say
to this woman to make this right for her.
    “ Because even though this
trip wasn’t perfect, it was still the best trip that I’ve ever been
on and you ruined it!” she snapped through trembling lips as she
yanked his shirt on and roughly wiped away the tears beginning to
spill down her face and making this a thousand times worse for
him.
    “ I didn’t know that I was
going to get sick!” he snapped right back, having absolutely no
idea how to talk to her when she was this pissed and praying like
hell that he didn’t end up saying something stupid that was going
to end up pushing her away.
    “ I’m not mad because you got
sick, you jerk! I’m pissed because you were so damn determined to
focus on what went wrong with this trip that you didn’t even try to
enjoy it!”
    “ It’s pretty fucking hard to
enjoy something when I’m locked in a bathroom, our luggage getting
stolen, being unable to stand