Page 56 of The Oscar Escape
“Where are you taking me?” she cried through rollicking laughter.
He eyed the piece of wrought iron furniture in the corner of the room. “I’m taking you, your perfect lips, and your naughty-down-there parts to bed,” he announced, then dropped her on the mattress like a sack of damned sexy potatoes.
The old springs groaned their displeasure as a giggling Aria reclined on the quilted surface. “What if we break it?”
He pulled off one of her lobster-red boots. “You’ve already busted a window, pinched pricy chocolates, and desecrated a beloved coastal artifact in your birthday suit on this island.” He tossed the footwear aside and started in on the other one. “Messing up an old bed in a long-forgotten lighthouse museum would be the least of your offenses,” he continued, undoing her jeans. He peeled the denim down her toned legs, revealing . . . “I forgot about these,” he uttered, eyeing her lobster panties. “Forget about being a lobsterman’s pinup girl. We’re diving headfirst into the lobster-kink end of the ocean. And there’s a sentence I never imagined uttering.” He tossed her jeans over his shoulder to rest alongside her boots.
She propped herself onto her side and batted her eyelashes in one hell of a come-hither pose. “I told you I’d make what came next unforgettable. But that requires a little effort on your part.”
“I told you. I always go the extra mile for my subjects,” he countered.
A deliciously suggestive smile spread across her lips. “This subject would like you to strip.”
He wasn’t about to make her ask twice. He skimmed his T-shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, and shrugged down his pants. He sauntered toward her.
“Hold on,” she said and scampered off the bed. She stood before him and pressed onto her tiptoes. “I need you to close your eyes. I have an idea.”
What did she have up her sleeve?
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, following directions like a schoolboy.
He could hear her footsteps against the weathered wood floor, a clank, more footsteps, then the whining creak of the old bed.
“All right, Oscar, you can look.”
He opened his eyes and burst out laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Aria had returned to her come-hither position on the bed, but she wasn’t alone. She’d set the damn plastic lobster from the pot on the pillow beside her.
“What about a threesome—Havenmatch Island style?” She stroked one of the lobster’s claws. “Or we could let the lobster watch.”
“What about,” he began, reining in his laughter, “I watch you take off those super-sexy lobster panties?”
“Only if I get to watch you lose the boxer briefs,” she tossed back.
“Deal,” he agreed, then eyed the plastic lobster warily. He was an open-minded guy, but the plastic crustacean creeped him out. “On second thought, can you turn him around?”
Aria held the lobster to her ear. Donning a pensive expression, she nodded like she and the crustacean were conversing. He couldn’t tease her about it. He’d claimed her lips could talk to him.
She set the lobster on the pillow. “Listen, Oscar, the lobster is ashe. Her name isClawdia, and she says she hasn’t gotten any decent lobsterDin decades. She’d appreciate it if you gave her a little peek.”
“Aria,” he said, injecting a healthy dose of WTF energy into her name. He looked between the women—no, not the women. His gaze ping-ponged between Aria and the plastic female lobster.
Aria pouted. “Come on, Ozzy Bear. Do Clawdia a solid.”
“Jesus, all right, all right.” He lost his boxer briefs. What was he supposed to say? No? A fair amount of his work as a documentarian focused on wildlife. If a lobster required a peek at his junk, who was he to deny her? Wait a damned second! That was bonkers. Then he bit back a grin as he came up with a clever reply.
Now buck naked, he strode the few feet to the bed and looked on as she shimmied out of the lobster underwear. He stood there, waiting a few seconds to give the plastic lobster a good look at him. Figuring he’d done his duty for horny plastic sea life, he placed the hard-up lady lobster on the wooden bedside table next to the flickering electric lantern and returned his focus to Aria. “How about,” he delivered, like a coastal Casanova, “I just do you?”
He’d expected Aria to launch a frothy comeback, but she didn’t. Her reaction was quite the opposite. She blushed.
“This is happening. This is the no-going-back part,” she said softly, her expression taking on an earnestness that cut straight to his heart.
They’d had their fun with the surprise lantern blinding light and the plastic lobster shenanigans. But now it was time to acknowledge the weight of this moment. The air in the cabin grew thick with heady anticipation. Aria was right. There would be no going back to what they used to be.
“Scoot over,” he said and edged in next to her on the bed. It was by no means a large sleeping area. With his knees grazing her legs, he positioned himself on his side to be eye to eye with her. The lamp light blanketed her in a hazy glow. She was the sun, and he craved her warmth.
He drew his fingertips down the curve of her neck. “I’ve fantasized about this moment a million times—probably more.”
