Page 47 of Embracing Us

Chapter twenty

Max

“Good morning, Mrs Gordon,” I whisper as Linda’s eyes flutter open. She smiles up at me softly. Her arm is thrown over my torso whilst her cheek rests against my chest. She is relaxed in my embrace, completely at ease as we lie together, wrapped around one another.

“Good morning, Mr Gordon,” she replies.

“Does my wife have any requests for today? We have exactly six hours, twenty-two minutes and fifty-one seconds of child-free time left to enjoy.” She glances at the clock on the bedside table.

“It’s nearly lunchtime,” she says, surprised. “I must have needed sleep.”

“You were worn out. It’s all the exercise you had last night. That stunning body of yours needs time to recover from all the action.” She giggles, then shakes a strand of hair from her eyes. “Shall we go and investigate the island? I have a little something planned for us.”

“I was thinking we could stay in bed,” she says, my lips quip in response. She can be insatiable when the mood takes her. Not that I’m complaining. Her fine fingers cup my cheek then move down my neck and over my body until coming to rest on my hip bone, dangerously close to my cock, which stirs at the possible opportunity.

“As tempting as you are, I’d like to spend some time with you fully clothed and experience a little of what Gibraltar has to offer.” She tuts noisily, displeased with my suggestion. “We have another night here, Beautiful. Maybe the childcare providers will offer to extend their wedding present and keep Jackson again tonight.”

“Perhaps,” she says, uncertainty obvious in her voice. “I miss having him here though.”

“Me too,” I agree. “Our little family is incomplete this morning. Let’s see what shape the day takes. No pressure or rules. It’s our honeymoon. We can do what we like.”

In unison, we get out of the bed. Linda disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of falling water tells me the shower is on. I tidy the bed sheets and lift our discarded clothing from last night off the floor then pack it away in the open case. She reappears ten minutes later, freshly showered and wrapped in a large white towel. I walk over to where she stands, dropping a kiss onto her lips without saying a word before moving past her to take my own shower.

Once we are both dressed, I take her hand in mine as we walk down the corridor to leave the hotel. My thumb plays with her wedding ring, spinning it gently on her finger. As we step through the doors into the fresh summer day, the warmth of the sun touches my skin. Linda strolls beside me, the hem of her pale pink summer dress bouncing as she walks. A wide-brim sunhat is pulled down firmly on her head, large dark glasses shielding her hazel-brown eyes from the rays.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“I’ve booked us a private tour of the Gibraltar Rock. The office is a five-minute walk away. This is an incredible place. There is so much history alongside the blended cultures which created the country. It would be a shame not to learn something whilst we are here.” She laughs out loud, and I scowl at her. “What?”

“Once a teacher, always a teacher.”

“You’re a teaching assistant,” I remind her. She stops, pulls her fingers from mine then places her hands on her hips. She cocks her head to one side. I can’t see her eyes, but I feel them running over my body. My arms cross over my chest in defiance and I narrow my eyes at her.

“I’m going to take a guess,” she says. “If I’m right, you owe me a massage. If I’m wrong, I’ll give you a blowjob that will explode your brain.”

“I would be hoping we’d both be willing to undertake both those activities without winning or losing a bet. But, go on, say whatever it is you want to say.”

“You’ve already got a lesson plan based on this trip to Gibraltar plotted, even though you won’t be back in the classroom for over a year.” Her words are a statement, not a question. She is completely sure of her assessment. Hell, this woman understands me better than I realised. “My guess is you’ll ask your students for a case study on this island, most likely how the physical geography has been utilised over the years to maximise its use in wartime situations.”

“You know me too well, Beautiful. I owe you a massage,” I concede. It’s true. She does know me and what is important in my life. She listens when I speak, genuinely interested in my thoughts. It is a blessed position to be in, having a partner who is one hundred percent in your corner. “Shall we go to find our driver so I can satisfy my need to learn?” I say and hold out my hand; she takes it. We walk together towards the tour office.

Our driver, Tony, is waiting for us as we arrive. There is no confusion as to which car is ours. The silver low-slung Mercedes sits in front of the office complete with white ribbons decorating the hood and a Just Married banner across the rear window. “Please, tell me that is not for us,” Linda gasps.

“I could tell you that, but I would be lying.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t do that, Beautiful. There are lots of dark caves around here. Plenty of private areas for me to pull you aside and punish you for misbehaviour.”

“You really are an over-the-top bastard,” she mutters.

“And you love it. Admit it, you’re excited to be driven around in that car. All eyes on you.”

“I am not,” she snaps back, and I chuckle. “I like to blend into the background.”

“Maybe in the past, Beautiful. But now you thrive on being front and centre.” She glances at me, uncertainty flitting across her face. “It suits you. I love to see you so confident.”

“Are you ready to leave, sir?” Tony says, interrupting our conversation. He pulls open the rear door of the car, and Linda climbs in. I walk around to the other side and take my seat beside her. Our driver sits in front of us, settles himself, then starts the engine. “Have you visited Gibraltar before?” he asks.

“No,” Linda replies. “This is my first visit.”

“Excellent,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Be prepared for the best tour of your life. I’m the Top Tour Guide Awards runner-up three years in a row, ma’am. You’re in safe hands.” His voice is animated as he speaks, excited at the prospect of divulging mountains of information on his passengers I assume. The evident pride in his tone makes me question who beat him all three years and if it was the same person. Not wanting to burst his bubble, I don’t ask. We drive out of the small car park and into the busy streets. They are crammed nose to tail with cars, vans and buses. After navigating out of the town, we begin our ascent up the rock in search of history and nature.

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