Page 60 of Breaking the Ice

“Saaaam. What better way to celebrate than having sex with someone who has a 100 per cent success rate.”

“So he says.”

“He practically made you come in an elevator.”

Samantha rolled her eyes. Bec had always been prone to exaggeration. “I told you, we don’t talk about the elevator.”

“It’s been two weeks. You still haven’t talked about it?”

“Nope.”

“That is the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

Samantha couldn’t dispute that given how much she’d actually thought about those heady moments. “It’s working for us.”

“Okay sure, whatever gets you through the day, babe.”

Sadly, it wasn’t the days that were the problem. It was the nights when her traitorous brain and body had nothing to do except remember every intimate detail.

“You know, there is one way to find out whether Nick’s boast is idle or not.”

“No Bec, I should be out there trying to findtheone, not plotting to get Mr. Look-At-My-Huge-Hockey-Stick into bed.”

“Even if he does have a 100 per cent success rate?”

“Yes.”

“Birthday sex, Sam. Birthday sex.”

“Goodbye, Bec.”

Samantha pushed the door open and breezed past Nick who had taken one look at her and frozen like a statue, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth.

She’d bought a dress online last week and had been dying to wear it. It crisscrossed her cleavage and wrapped around her, tying at the front in a bow. It sat snug against her boobs and emphasized the indent of her waist and the flare of her hips while hiding the chunk of her thighs. Teamed with strappy four-inch heels, it was the perfect way to put her in a body positive mood for her birthday. Considering she prevaricated, often on an hourly basis, about her curves, it felt good to stride into work feeling upbeat on her special day.

The look on Nick’s face certainly kept that positivity alive.

“Is there some special occasion I don’t know about?” he asked as she emerged from the back room. “Are you going to a show after work?”

Samantha looked at Nick and all she could hear were Bec’s words in her head.Birthday sex.And she couldn’t deny that would be the perfect present. Wasn’t that why she’d dressed this way? Hoping to make him drool a little? Hopinghemight make the first move?

Because, God knew, she was never going to be game enough to just come out and ask.

“Just felt like getting out of my jeans.”

She smiled at him as she brushed past, catching a whiff of his aftershave. God, but the man smelled good. Healwayssmelled good and she had the sudden erratic urge to rip his shirt open and sniff him all over.

She made herself a coffee instead.

Then she plonked herself on the leather couch, picked up her book from yesterday, found her place and proceeded to read. She’d get up when she’d finished her coffee and do thedusting, but for now she needed a shot of caffeine to bolster her confidence.

Which was easier said than done when she had a case of lust so bad she could hardly even make out the words on the page in front of her. Hell, she’d read it so many times it had ceased to make sense.

Giving up, Samantha downed her coffee quickly and took the cup out back to wash up. She leaned against the sink, taking some deep cleansing breaths –get a grip, Samantha. People do not die from sexual frustration.

“Okay… what’s wrong?”

Samantha almost jumped a mile in the air as he strode toward her and settled his ass against the edge of the sink. “Nothing,” she denied, as she went through the motions of rinsing the cup.

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