"Ah, you're awake," she smiles as she steps behind him, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek, a few drops of water falling from her wet hair onto his chest and almost making him jump. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
"Good morning," he replies, turning his head to look at her as she pulls back, moving to stand next to him. "Good swim?"
"Yes, thanks," she nods.
"Breakfast?" he offers, indicating the food laid out on the table before him.
"I'll just take a quick shower first."
"It'll get cold," he objects. "Eat something first; it's still warm and look – they even gave us a tea cosy. Clearly they get a lot of English tourists in this hotel."
She laughs at that and nods her agreement. "All right," she says and takes a seat in the chair beside him, helping herself to a croissant, butter and jam while he pours her tea, adding milk and sugar. He watches her with loving eyes as she eats her breakfast, staring out over the beautiful view from their balcony, amazed that they've made it this far and grateful beyond words for it, for them, for getting another chance at something he'd almost resigned himself to never having again – a family, a normal life outside the service, a reason to retire and travel, a lover, a confidant, a best friend.
When he'd dreamt about the Grand Tour, he'd never really believed that it would happen, and when he'd first told her about it, it had been the first time he'd shared that particular dream with anyone, the first time it had become something real, something he might enjoy one day with someone special, with her, the first person he'd considered sharing his life and his dreams with in a very long time.
"It's beautiful here, Harry," she sighs after a bit, turning to look at him. "I can't get over how lucky we are to be here, to share this after everything."
He smiles and reaches for her hand across the table. "I know," he murmurs, squeezing it gently. "I was just thinking that myself."
She smiles at him holding his gaze for several moments before she sighs happily and looks down at her plate, popping the last bite of her croissant into her mouth and washing it down with some tea. Then she squeezes his hand again before she lets it go and stands up, murmuring, "Time for that shower, I think," as she arches her back and stretches.
She's wearing a bath robe over her swimming costume, but even so, her movements kindle his desire and he asks huskily, "Mind if I join you?" and when she drops her eyes to his again, he gives her a smouldering look.
She smiles, raising one eyebrow as she says, "Jesus, Harry! Have you set yourself a goal of making love in every single city on our Grand Tour or something?"
"And what if I have?" he asks with a smirk as he stands, his hands finding their way to her waist as he steps close to her. "Is that such a bad goal?"
She lifts both her eyebrows at that before she gives him an impish smile and shakes her head at him. Then she leans closer and whispers in his ear, "Not unless you plan on fulfilling it with someone other than me."
He grins, pulling her roughly against him and pressing his lips against her jaw, trailing kisses round to her ear and growling, "Not a chance. You're stuck with me now, my darling wife." He pulls back to look at her, still holding her pelvis against his own as he adds, "As if I could ever want anyone else, Ruth, now that I've had you. You know perfectly well that you've spoilt me for every other woman in the world."
She smiles, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. "You really know how to sweet talk a woman, Harry Pearce," she says.
"I don't know about that, Ruth," he smiles. "I used to think that was true, but I'm not so sure any more. It took me years to get you into bed and then convince you to marry me."
"Ah, yes," she grins impishly, "but you're rather good at it now, Harry. So good in fact, that it worries me a little." She frowns and drops her hand, looking away towards the sea.
"Worries you? Why?" he asks in concern. "Don't you trust me? After all this time, everything we've been through together, Ruth?"
"I do," she nods, turning to look at him earnestly. "I'm sorry... It's just that I know what a sexy man you are and what a magnificent lover, so I know that at least half the women in every hotel we stay at want you, and I worry that, if one of them were to strip naked in front of you, or drop down on her knees before you, you might succumb to the temptation." She shakes her head and sighs, adding, "And I also know that my worries have more to do with my own insecurities than anything else."
"My Ruth," he smiles fondly, lifting his own hand to cup her cheek, caressing her smooth, tanned skin with his thumb, "though I am very grateful that you still find me so attractive, I think perhaps you forget that I'm already past sixty, way past my prime, putting on more weight round the middle at every hotel we stay at, and utterly in love with one brilliant, gorgeous, quirky, amazing woman, that I have lusted and chased after for a very long time and, now that I've finally managed to convince her to put up with me and marry me for better or worse, I'm not stupid enough to risk throwing it all away for a quick fuck with anyone, whether they be stark naked or covered in chocolate buttons. This is paradise, Ruth, but without you, it would be hell. I have sufficient sense and intellect to not do anything stupid, and my self-control is, thankfully, still very much intact."
"Except when it comes to pastries," she teases, the smile returning to her lips and the twinkle to her eyes.
"Nobody's perfect," he shrugs. "Now, I believe you requested my assistance in the shower, Mademoiselle. Shall we?"
"Madame, if you please," she smiles, "and I most definitely did not request any assistance whatsoever."
"Ah, my mistake, Madame," he replies. "You look so young and beautiful that I did not believe you could be married already." She slaps his shoulder playfully as she blushes at the compliment, making him grin and murmur huskily, "As to the assistance, forgive me, perhaps I have mixed up the rooms. We offer a back-scrub and a full body massage to all our guests after their swim."
"Is that what we're calling it now?" she laughs, turning and walking towards the en suite.
"I assure you, Madame," he calls after her, "that I do not know what you are insinuating. If you believe me to be offering any kind of... sexual services, I am mortified."
That gets her attention and she spins round to face him and replies with a very polite smile, "I thank you for the kind offer, Monsieur, but I will have to decline." He feels the disappointment deflate him a little, but before he can dwell on it long, she whispers softly, "You see, Sir, I'm expecting my husband back any moment now, and he has promised to join me in the shower for a very sensual body-wash, followed by a highly erotic massage and a very thorough fuck." He blinks at her in surprise and then smiles as she adds, "It's my birthday today, you see. So would you kindly bugger off? He won't be pleased to find you here and that will certainly distract him."
"Consider it done, Madam," he grins, "though I doubt anything could distract him from a woman of your beauty and sensuality."
She smiles and steps through the bathroom door, closing it behind her. When he opens it moments later, she's already stepping into the shower. "Hi, honey, I'm home," he says, moving swiftly forwards to join her under the hot water.
He wraps his arms around her and watches as she sighs and leans against him, lifting her face to receive his kiss. "Happy birthday, my love," he murmurs against her lips.
"Thank you," she smiles.
"What have you been up to while I was out running?" he asks playfully, delighting in the peal of laughter that escapes her at his words.
"Running!" she giggles. "Eating too many pastries more like."
"Now, now, Ruth," he frowns. "There's no need to be... insulting. Let me share in this fantasy a little too."
"Sorry," she relents immediately and presses a soft kiss against his lips. "Did you happen to see anyone on your way up after your ten mile run?"
"As a matter of fact, I did," he grins and then promptly frowns as he slips back into character. "There was a man coming out of our room just as I arrived. What did he want?"
"Oh, he was just a masseur from the hotel," she shrugs dismissively. "He came to offer me a massage, but I sent him on his way."
"Why?" he whispers near her ear, his hands running appreciatively over her back all the way down to her buttocks.
"Because," she sighs, leaning into him, "I knew you'd be home soon and you're a much better lay than any other man on the planet."