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Lush Curves 3: Making Waves (A BBW Erotic Romance)
     
    By Delilah Fawkes
     
     
     
     
    Aolani
     
     
    I spent the day avoiding Gavin Fletcher, even though I couldn’t shake the smile on my face. The last thing I needed was the whole crew to know I slept with him, especially since we were all stuck together on his yacht for God knows how long.
    But even as I chatted with Thomas about what kind of equipment he used on his shoots, my mind kept drifting back to the bedroom below deck where I’d spent the night, the feel of Gavin’s warm skin beneath my cheek, the touch of his chest hair beneath my fingertips. The way my body still ached sweetly, reminding me of what we’d done together. What he’d done to me with those strong hands and sweat-covered body.
    I’d snuck out of the cabin before he woke, only to see him in the kit chen an hour later, making coffee for everyone. He smiled when he saw me, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way that made my heart squeeze in my chest, and I gave him a grin in return. Instead of staying, I'd grabbed coffee and followed Sandra on deck, trying my hardest to look nonchalant.
    I wasn't the kind of girl who slept with the boss, and I certainly didn't want rumors to start flying before we even hit land.
    Just keep your cool like it’s any other day at the office. Even if your office is a luxury yacht and your boss is a smoldering Scotsman whose clothes you can’t wait to rip off again tonight…
    I swore, and leaned over the railing, trying to clear my head, when I heard the captain’s gravelly voice through the deck's speakers.
    "We' re coming up on Providenciales, everyone. We should be arriving within the next half hour. Jorge, prepare for docking."
    I strained my eyes, the salt air blowing my hair back over my shoulders as I looked for the green dot of land we'd be making our home for the next few days. I wondered if it would remind me of home, or if I'd feel out of place somehow--a refuge e on an island full of mansions and millionaires.
    We'd never had a beachfront anything, but my family had always made the ocean a center point in our lives, a place where we played and laughed together, a place where my cousins and I would horse around after school to keep oursel ves out of trouble, and relax each weekend.
    My grandmothe r was the one who taught me to swim after my parents passed away, and every time I dipped into the warm water, I remembered her strong hands holding me as I practiced my stroke. I smiled, hoping that no matter what lay ahead, it would be familiar enough that I'd feel her with me. Her hands guiding me as I ventured into oceans unknown.
    Thinking about her made this whole bizarre adventure a little bit less intimidating. After all, my family name Kahale meant “the house.” I always like to think that meant I take my home with me wherever I go, and the people in it. With that strength behind me, I certainly could handle whatever came my way.
    In the distance, I saw a strip of greenery, and noticed the ocean changing color as we neared the island—the deep blue-green melting and shifting into turquoise, dotted with the dark shadow of coral reefs as far as the eye could see. There was a sparkle of white near the shore, and as we drew near, I saw it was a mansion, the white columns glistening in the sun, nestled back into the lush foliage of Turks and Caicos.
    It was breathtaking.
     
    ***
     
    I was acutely aware of Gavin’s hand on my back as he guided me into the foyer of his island home. To say it was nothing like my Grandma’s place would be the understatement of the year.
    Sweeping bamboo floors stretched through an open entryway, a gorgeous rotunda with giant wooden beams drawing my eyes upward. Dark wooden furniture popped against white woven rugs and upholstery, Polynesian-style decor tying it all together with carvings in the shape of palm leaves decorating the walls.
    “And I thought the yacht was impressive…” I muttered under my