Page 40 of Embracing Us

“We would appreciate that.” He takes my hand, then raises it to his mouth, pressing his lips gently against my skin. “These ladies have insisted we don’t share a room this evening.” He gestures to Crystal and Susan with his head. “So, I would like as much private time as possible this afternoon with my fiancée before she becomes my wife.” It is my turn for my cheeks to change colour, but mine flush tomato red.

“Max,” I hiss. He turns to me, smirks then his face resumes a blank expression.

“What, Beautiful?”

“Really?” I mumble, pulling my hand from his then stuffing both of them into my denim skirt pockets. He grins at me before turning back to the receptionist.

“Any luck, Cheryl?” Her eyes pop open at the use of her name. Yes, he can read a name badge. Don’t get too excited.

“Yes, Mr Gordon. Your rooms are ready. All I need is a credit card for extra charges.”

“Excellent,” he says enthusiastically, then rubs his palms together before placing the silver card on the desk. “You hear that, Beautiful? We can christen the room this afternoon.” He turns to face me, wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him. His lips drop to my ear. “I need one last hurrah with you before we tie the knot.”

“Max,” Aunt Susan snaps. “Stop pissing around. The poor woman behind the desk doesn’t know where to look.” He laughs but releases me, not before pressing his erection into my hip bone. Max is flirty and fun, but he isn’t kidding when he says he wants me one more time as his fiancée. I know from the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, he intends to be inside me sooner rather than later. His attention returns to the woman holding his credit card.

“Sorry,” he says with a shrug. “I’m a man in love, what can I say? This woman drives me insane.” She giggles then looks at me.

“She’s a lucky lady then. Have a wonderful stay with us here at The Rock. Your room numbers are on the card. These three rooms are next to one another. After the wedding ceremony, we will move both your belongings into the honeymoon suite.”

“Perfect,” he says, flashing her a broad smile. “Thank you, Cheryl.” She bites her lip to hide her shy smile, and I roll my eyes. This man, my man, makes women turn to mush. My heart swells as I enjoy the fact, he is mine. Cheryl slides the key cards across the marble to him. Max picks them up, turning to the rest of us. “Shall we go?”

Our rooms are on the second floor with views to the front of the hotel. I stand on the small balcony, looking across the water to Spain. Jackson lies in his pram beside me, asleep. The sound of my door closing tells me Max has arrived. His arms wrap around my waist from behind, resting across my stomach. He places his chin on my shoulder. “It is stunning, isn’t it?” I say, still absorbed by the gentle waves and dramatic coastline.

“Just like you,” he whispers, his lips touching my shoulder sending shivers across my skin. One hand moves to the waistband of my skirt, sliding below. His breath catches in his throat, his cock hardening against my backside when he doesn’t find me wearing underwear. “I think you forgot something today, Beautiful.”

“Did I?” I tease, a giggle forming in my throat.

“I’m sure there is normally another barrier before I can touch you here,” he says, darkly. His finger moving directly between my lips. “But the access is much easier today. I approve.”

“You did say you would prefer a wife who doesn’t wear underwear,” I remind him.

“That is true.” His teeth nip at my neck, his arms tightening their grip, holding my body firm to his. “Do you think we have time…” He is interrupted by the hotel room door flying open and Crystal waddling in. He removes his hand from my skirt and we both turn to face her.

She stands in the centre of the room with her hands covering her eyes. “Can I look?” she squeals. “I’m not going to be scarred for life by your naked arse, Maxy.”

“Open your fucking eyes,” he says, annoyed. “I never got that far. You’re more of a cock blocker than Jackson is.” She lowers her hands, widening her eyes in jest. A wide smile spreads across her face.

“We don’t have time for you to be getting balls deep in Linda.” She taps the old brown leather watch on her wrist. “Your paperwork is due at the office in one hour, and I need a coffee.”

“You two…” He signals to the open room door, obviously meaning Susan. “Could have taken Jackson and gone for coffee. We would have caught you up.”

“No, because then the two of you would appear smelling of sex. No hanky panky today.” She waggles her finger at us, and I laugh. “Leave the poor woman alone for twenty-four hours. After tomorrow I fully approve of copulation.”

“Crystal, we have a son,” he replies, exasperated. “That ship has sailed.”

“Shut up Maxy and make an old woman happy. Now get that beast to behave.” She signals to his shorts. “Come on, Linda, we will meet this young vagrant downstairs once he has his body under control.”

The Gibraltar main street is only a one-kilometre walk from the hotel. Stepping onto the cobbled pedestrian area is like walking down an English high street in the sunshine. The street is lined with British brand names, every pub boasts English cuisine and alcohol. “It’s hard to believe we are still in Spain,” I say, glancing at Max.

“We aren’t. Gibraltar is a British territory. The bonus of being here is the sun shines, unlike London.” My eyes dart around the bustling streets. Union Jack flags hang from lamp posts and as bunting between buildings. A drum sounds, followed by the music of a brass band. Max takes my hand, pulling me towards the noise. Susan and Crystal follow behind, pushing Jackson in his pram.

Outside a stunning white church in a small square, a small band plays. The participants are all well into their twilight years, dressed impeccably in their uniforms from yesteryear. Bright-red coats starched to perfection are teamed with perfectly pressed black trousers edged with red. Silver buttons sparkle in the sunlight, as do the highly polished black boots. Crisp white helmets with brass detailing sit proudly on their heads. Watching them is like stepping back in time, to an era when an army prepared for battle musically.

A large Union Jack has been painted on the stones before them. Long Live Our Queen written in scrolled writing beneath. A crowd gathers around them, singing along if they know the words or clapping merrily. As I glance over my shoulder, Crystal wraps her arm around Susan. There is an intimacy to the gesture, a love that the two women share. Max told me that his counsellor said companionship was important in his life. As I look at the two women, it hits me that our companions can come from the most unlikely places and can be the last person you would ever dream of them being.

The composition ends, prompting the onlookers into a round of applause. “The registry office is over here,” Max says, pointing down the street. He turns to Crystal and Susan. “You both go find a table and send us a message of where you are. We will hand our paperwork in then meet you for lunch.”

“Yes, sir,” Susan says, saluting him and stamping a sandalled foot against the cobbles. They place one hand each on Jackson’s pram handle, turn then push him off down the street towards a pub called The Red Lion muttering to each other about the pram bouncing along the uneven stone.

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