Free Honeymoon from Hell Part I by R.L. Mathewson Page A

a cooking clause as well.
    “ A sex clause?” she asked, still sounding amused and giving him hope that the curse was almost at an end.
    “ Mmmhmm, a sex clause,” he said with a firm nod as he stumbled his way up the narrow walkway.
    “ And what exactly would be in this clause of yours?”
    He paused to blink down at his beautiful wife. “Sex. Was I not clear about that?”
    Her lips twitched as she cleared her throat, most likely to stop herself from laughing. “And, uh, what exactly are the details of this clause?”
    “ You have to provide me with incredible sex twice in the morning, once after work and three times at night,” he said, liking this idea the more that he thought about it.
    Not that he was ever going to give her a divorce. He wasn’t fucking stupid after all. She was the best thing that ever happened to him and he was too fucking greedy to give that up.
    “ No bi-monthly BJ?” she asked, blinking innocently up at him.
    “ No,” he said, leaning down so that he could brush his lips against hers. “Those are daily.”
    “ And how exactly are we going to fit a daily BJ into your schedule?” she asked in a teasing whisper as she brushed her lips against his.
    “ Oh, I’d make the time,” he promised her with a wink as he came to a stop in front of her house.
    He nearly sighed with relief when his eyes locked on that front door. Finally, this nightmare of a honeymoon was over. “Thank God,” he mumbled, shifting Haley in his arms as he walked up the two steps that would save them and-
    “ Do you have the keys?” Haley asked, earning an unwarranted glare as he carefully shifted her in his arms so that he could reach into his front pocket and-
    Shoved his fingers through a large hole in his jeans where his front pocket should be.
    “ It’s never going to end,” he said on a resigned sigh as he tried to figure out what to do with Haley while he searched for his keys. He considered placing her down on the front step, but he didn’t like the idea of leaving her sitting on the front step in nothing but a dirty, torn blanket.
    He considered breaking one of her windows so that he could get in, but with his luck he’d probably lose his arm in the process so he turned around and slowly headed towards the backyard.
    “ So…this curse,” she reminded him as she reached up to push her glasses back up her nose only to remember with an adorable frown that she wasn’t wearing her glasses and let her hand drop away seconds later.
    Slowly exhaling and wishing that he’d never mentioned it, he carefully carried her around the house. “It’s not really a curse,” he explained as he tightened his hold around her and carefully stepped over the white picket fence that marked her property line.
    “ Then what is it?” Haley asked, shifting closer to him as he tried to balance all his weight and hers on his good leg.
    “ Well,” he said, pausing so that he could pop the pool gate open with elbow, “it appears that no Bradford can manage to give his wife a honeymoon without something seriously fucked up happening.”
    “ I see,” she said quietly, looking thoughtful even as she squinted up at him.
    “ While most families tell ghost stories around the campfire, my family seems to get a kick out of tormenting the next generation with dire warnings of things to come,” he explained with a shrug as he carried her started to carry her over to the lounge chair where he’d seriously fucked everything up only to think better of it and carry her over to the pool.
    “ And what kind of stories would they tell you exactly?” she asked as he carefully knelt down and placed her on the edge of the pool, moving quickly to grab the blanket out of the way.
    “ Put your feet in the water,” he murmured as he guided her injured foot into the cool water.
    Closing her eyes with a pleased little smile, she said, “That feels better. Thank you, Jason.”
    Smiling and feeling better than he had since that smoke