Curvy Diversion: A Curvy Girl Friends to Lovers Romance (Curvy Love Book 1)

by Aidy Award

  A whole new wall of dark clouds had formed over the mainland. But when Grant steered us into the dock area there wasn’t any rain. Yet. “Are you sure we can make it to this waterfall?”

  He threw the ropes up to the dock worker and then secured the boat. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. I’m sure the rest of the afternoon will be nice, overcast is all. We would have heard something on the weather radio otherwise.”

  We climbed up the ladder and Grant slipped the dock guy some cash. “Thank you, sir. Will you be long on the island? The storm is coming.”

  “Couple hours or so,” he replied.

  I followed him off the dock and to the signs marking the trailhead. “I thought you said there was no storm.”

  “Costa Rica is notorious for being in a hurricane free zone. Something about the Coriander effect.” His voice was light and had that friendly joking tone to it again.

  “The spice?” I laughed, wanting to get back to the easy comfortable place we’d always had together too.

  “Coriander, Corialis effect. Means it can’t spin because we’re too close to the equator. Maybe a little rain, but no hurricanes.”

  “If you say so.”

  The path so far was wide and with only the tiniest of an incline, not even as much as I put on my treadmill. Easy peasy. We walked side by side, quiet for the first few hundred yards. A small tour group passed us making their way back. Grant paused every once in a while to take a snapshot of some flower or a bird or the dark cloudy sky.

  The canopy above sheltered us from what few raindrops were falling. This might not be my idea of an island vacay in the sun, but the lush greenery was a sight to behold. As was Grant’s ass, which I happily stared at as he squatted to take a close up of a bright pink lily-shaped flower.

  He’d been the one ogling me all through lunch and now I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. Damn him for putting sex on my brain, when this was supposed to be a sex-free zone for me.

  But, he brought it up, and for me that meant planning a scene and having a whole hell of a lot of fun making him come.

  No way was he the type.

  Grant might be a nice guy, but he was alpha all the way. That meant he and his orgasms were off limits even if we weren’t just friends. We were too much alike, needing independence and control over our lives.

  I shouldn’t be drawn to him.

  Somewhere in a tiny hidden part of my mind a voice I ignored told me to quit should-ing on myself.

  Whatever. Shoulds and shouldn’ts were the basis of proper society. Although, when had I ever been proper?

  Grant, this island, my life, all had me mixed up. I didn’t know what I wanted or even what I should want.

  “Smile, love’.” Grant pivoted and pointed his camera at me. A couple on the path paused to let him take the picture.

  I made the obligatory kissy face hoping to distract him from the fact I had clearly been mentally doing dirty things to his backside.

  Either he didn’t notice or he ignored it. “Come on. Let’s get moving.”

  Grant grabbed my hand and pulled me along. In another fifty yards I was glad to have something to hold onto besides the flora growing out of the side of the rocks. The path had taken a steep turn. “My ass is wider than this trail. What happened to the leisurely walk we were on? I’d hate to fall down that.”

  The drop off we were inching past made my stomach flip flop just looking at it. Yes, the trail was a good ten feet from the edge and there were barriers and signs calling it a scenic overlook, but I still didn’t like it.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got ya.” He squeezed my hand tight and at this rate, I was never letting go. “Look, right up there, the trail winds back into the trees again.”

  The way he took charge and my sudden fear of heights had me feeling damsel-in-distressy. Yuck. That wouldn’t do. This was why I was a Domme. I never had to rely on someone else or feel, well, out of control.

  “I think I’ll lead the way now.” I pushed past Grant and quickened the pace. He’d have to keep up with me.

  Rain sprinkled down around us, pitter pattering on the leaves and rocks. We ran into a few other groups making their way back down the hill. Everyone was all smiles and friendly waves, but little talk.

  I rushed up the last few yards of the trail. My body glistened with sweat and humidity. I pushed the pace wanting distance between me, that cliff, and the thought that with Grant trailing he might be ogling my ass like I had been his all afternoon.

  My face and skin were warm. My clothes felt too tight even though they fit perfectly. I’d like to strip them off and go skinny dipping. For now, I’d be content dipping my toes in.

  The waterfall was even better than I’d heard. A cool stream fell into a large pool. The blues and greens of the water repeated in the trees and the sky. An observation platform and some sort of treehouse had been erected halfway up a huge tree. You could probably see the top of the waterfall from there and I wondered if honeymooning couples ever took advantage of the park service’s accommodation.

  A ladder led up to the platform, but a padlock was on the door. Storm shutters had been lowered over the windows too. Too bad, it was awfully cute and I would have liked to see the inside.

  I found a place to sit, not in the muck or sand and slipped my muddy sandals off. Not exactly the best footwear for this activity, but the topaz jewels complimented my newly pedicured toes.

  “Don’t stop there, take it all off,” Grant said from behind me.

  I threw one of the sandals at his head. It missed and he winked then sauntered over and sat down on the rock next to me slipping his shoes off too. They hadn’t fared any better.

  “Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves.” He nodded at the pool in front of us and leaned back on the rock.

  I glanced around hoping there would be someone, anyone else. A secluded idyllic location, a hot and sweaty, and did I mention hot, man by my side, and an entire free afternoon. What was a girl to do?

  Nothing. The time and the place might be right, but this wasn’t the right man. Not for me anyway.

  He was a nice vanilla guy, who deserved a nice vanilla girl. There certainly weren’t any of those here right now.

  “Yeah, because it’s raining.” The drops made tiny circles all over the water. “Okay, that was fun, let’s go.”

  I stood and wiped any debris from my pants. Not that there was any. I needed something to do with my hands. Like wield a flogger, or tie some rope around some well-defined muscles, or run my hands through someone’s blond hair and grip it tight between my fingers, pulling until his head had to bend back, exposing his neck, forcing him to his knees.

  I honestly couldn’t imagine doing any of those things with Grant. Well, maybe the rope.

  “We just got here.” Grant grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. “The rain isn’t that bad. Relax, take a break.”

  Yeah, that’s what I was supposed to be doing. Gah. This was not only a vacation for me, but a BDSM break. So why with every touch, look, and innuendo did domination and submission keep coming to mind?

  Because I wanted Grant. Something I hadn’t been willing to admit in ten years. If the afternoon was anything to go by, he wanted me too.

  Ain’t never gonna happen.

  Quit thinking about it.

  Grant clicked a few more pictures and flipped through the last few on the camera’s view screen.

  I shook my head at myself for considering sex with Grant. It would destroy our relationship. I was sure. I sidled up close enough to touch…and look at the view screen on the camera anyway. The heat from his skin warmed me in more places than it should.

  What was I doing? Looking at pictures, right.

  The shots were fantastic. Not the average tourist postcard type picture. Grant saw something other people didn’t, and used his camera to capture it.

  “You’re wasted in fashion. You should be shooting for National Geographic.”

  “These aren’t for the magazine. This
is my personal camera.” He stayed on candid shot of me I didn’t know he’d taken. “I don’t sell these pictures. Ever.”

  “Money versus art?”

  He flipped the view to another picture of me. “Art wins every time.”

  “Even when you’re the CEO?” Oh, yeah. There was a distracting topic that had nothing to do with warm bodies.

  Grant didn’t say anything. He looked at me, searching for something in my eyes, but not in me. I think he was trying to answer questions in his own head.

  “I’m not in charge yet. Still time to be me and have a little fun.” He jumped up from our seats and headed toward the treehouse, camera raised.

  For the first time since I’d known him, Grant wasn’t the go-lucky playboy. Maybe he had been this new more serious guy this whole trip, maybe even for the last few years, and I was just now noticing. We hadn’t seen each other that often in the past few years. He was still the Grant I’d known for ten years, but he was more serious now. It had to be the stress of taking over Granted Media.

  We all had our crosses to bear. Mine was a St. Andrews, with a flogger attached. His wasn’t. He had a public life that even though I was a model, I could never handle. I needed my privacy, my dirty, naughty, dominating privacy. Ne’er the two shall meet.

  Thunder sounded above our heads and the wind picked up, whipping my hair into my face. The last rays of sunshine turned into fat raindrops.

  “Uh-oh. We’d better head back. I am not dressed for the cold.” I rubbed my arms and went in search of my sandals. The water and serious conversation had done its job, cooled my libido.

  “Come here, love. One last picture to capture the moment.” Grant grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. Rarely did I look up at a man, but Grant was a whole head taller than I was and I didn’t have a whip and a D/s relationship to get him to his knees. Not that I needed either with him.

  “You’ve got three seconds to smile for the camera.”

  We pushed our heads together and posed.

  “Send me a copy of that.”

  Grant tucked the camera back into his bag and clicked the latch. “Don’t want it to get wet.”

  If we didn’t hurry down the hill, we and the camera were going to get more than wet. I’d been too caught up in analyzing what the hell was going on between me and Grant to realize how close the storm clouds had come. In a sudden whoosh a deluge of rain poured over us. No drip, drip, drop, little April showers, but full on monsoon.

  Grant grabbed my hand and bolted for the cover of the big tree. The overhang of the observation platform got us out of the direct spray but we were both already soaked through and goosebumps raised across my skin.

  “Should we try and wait it out or make a run for it?” I wanted the warmth of my hotel room and maybe a drink in the hotel bar. If it meant getting wet for the trot down the hill, I was okay with that, but Grant would be buying the drinks.

  “Let’s see what the weather service says about the storm.” Grant pulled up his phone, but before he could check anything it rang. “Hello?”

  He paused pressing one hand over his ear trying to hear better. “What?” He went through a series of uh-huhs and hmms then looked at his phone like a starving man who’d bit into plastic display food, then shook it.

  No signal.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “That was the photographer.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “The storm hit them about ten minutes ago down at the beach where they were shooting. All of the cameras and equipment have been either soaked, ruined, or washed away in some sort of rogue wave. We just lost the entire shoot to Hurricane Cameron.”

  Hot, Sticky, and Wet

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Grant shook his phone and glared at it. Poor iPhone was damn lucky that looks couldn’t kill or it would be more dead than it already was without a signal.

  “What in the world is a rogue wave?” I asked.

  “The hell if I know, but it owes me about twenty grand.”

  Yikes. That may not be a lot of money for someone like Grant, but it was no pocket money either. I wanted to help however I could. “This is thinking farther ahead but, if you want me to do the shoot over, I can.”

  He slammed his dead phone into the camera bag and paced with in our one square foot of damp ground. “Yeah, thanks, love. But, I can’t afford it. Every last dollar I have went into this little venture.”

  Umm. What? The Cochrans were katrillionaires, maybe even zillionaires, whichever was more. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m homeless and destitute as of thirty minutes ago.” He sagged against the tree and stared at the ground.

  “But, your family has more money than anyone I know. Is the company in trouble?” I hadn’t heard anything about it. If a big company like Granted was having financial difficulties, there was no way they’d be able to hide it for long. A lot of people would be out of work.

  “No, God, no. Dear old dad and Granted Media are fine. I’m the one who’s in trouble.” He sounded both frustrated and like a lost puppy at the same time.

  I wanted to pet him and hold him. I put my hand on his arm letting him know I was there for him. “Grant. Hey. What’s going on?”

  He laid his hand over mine and held it there for a long minute. “Look. I’m cold and fucking pissed off I didn’t prepare for this. I should have listened to the dock guy. Those old time sailor men have a nose for a storm. But, I wanted to…” He cut himself off and lifted his head, staring at me. “Never mind. Let’s get off this damn hill and I’ll explain over hot drinks. If my credit card doesn’t get declined.”

  There was definitely something else behind that look besides the reason he was out of money. I absolutely completely, totally denied that it could have anything to do with me. Nuh-uh. No way.

  “Okay. I could definitely go for a hot drink.” We eyed the storm and then back at each other. If the wind and rain got any worse, we wouldn’t be able to see more than a few feet in front of us. We needed to get the fuck out of paradise. Partly for safety and partly so Grant could have a meltdown.

  “Do you see the trail?” I held my hand over my eyes as if shading them from the rain would help me see better. The trail should be about fifty feet to the right, but at the moment, I couldn’t even see the waterfall or the pool.

  “Dammit. No way we’re going to make it down right now. Let’s bust into the treehouse.”

  Trapped in a small space with an angry man. How about no.

  “We can make it. Going down is easier and it won’t take us more than the hour it took to walk up.” I searched again for any sign of the way out of here.

  Grant tugged at my arm pulling me closer to the tree’s base. “You don’t really want to be out in this for an hour or more.”

  He was right, but there was also something he wasn’t saying. He had a certain smirk on his face.

  “What is going through your delinquent brain right now?”

  “Come on. If we’re lucky some park ranger has hidden a fifth of scotch up there somewhere.”

  I needed my inhibitions on high alert right now. If I was going to get stuck having a hurricane party in twenty square feet with a sexy man who needed to work out some angry energy one or the other of us was losing some control.

  This was possibly the worst idea in the history of the no-hurricane zone.

  I had to try one more time to talk him out of it. “Don’t you want to get to the crew and see what’s left of the photoshoot? We really should try to get back to the car.”

  “It’s too dangerous.” He was less angry and more cajoling. Which definitely meant he was up to something.

  “Danger is my middle name.” If I played the superwoman card, he’d follow along.

  “No, it’s not, it’s Marguerite.”

  Bastard knew too much about my secret identity. “Oh. My. God. I told you never to say that out loud again.”

  “Marguerite. Marguerite. Marguerite.”

  I pressed my hand over his
mouth. “Stop.”

  He shook me off and said, “Get up that ladder.”

  Grant’s life was in the shitter at the moment and he was still the most affable, cutest guy I’d ever known. He was the kind of guy every woman hoped to find and wanted to spend the rest of their lives with when they did.

  I was in serious trouble.

  No way I could spend a night trapped with him and not let something happen. I looked out into the rain and up the ladder. Then I shook my head.

  “Danica Marguerite Chambers. Get your luscious ass up that ladder before I bend you over my knee and spank you.”

  Whoa.

  First off no one had used my full real name to chastise me since I was twelve. Then there was the rest of the sentence.

  I’d always known Grant was a dominant guy, but that was some serious Dom talk coming out of his mouth at the moment.

  Damn if I didn’t feel a tingle in my stomach and heat between my legs. I wasn’t a submissive, but there was definitely something hot about a man who took charge.

  I crossed my arms and tapped my foot in fine Domme fashion. “Fuck you, Grant Bartholomew Cochran. You get into the treehouse. I’ll wait right here until you have it ready for me.”

  There. That ought to show him who was boss.

  He shook his head. “You always were a diva princess.”

  “Am not.”

  He didn’t reply to the childish brat I’d become, just hopped up the ladder and disappeared. Banging, rattling and a muffled curse later he climbed back down sliding the last few feet like a fireman.

  “After you, princess Marguerite.”

  I rolled my eyes at him but grabbed the rung right above my head and worked my way up. It wasn’t very far to get up to the observation deck level and I thought Grant would be right behind me. I glanced down and he was blatantly staring at my ass. There was obvious lust written all over his face.

  I chose to ignore it. It was either that or jump his bones the minute we got out of the rain. “What’s the hold up?”

  “Next time we’re climbing ladders into treehouses, you should definitely wear a skirt.”