So, how was I supposed to react? Make a scene and therefore bring attention to the sudden erratic behaviour our neighbour was giving me? Nick wouldn't forgive me, nor would I forgive myself. As much as I hated how Shane had dished out loose hints throughout the evening, I knew I had no power in the situation unless I wanted Nick to know that something had happened. Or at least how my neighbour was flirting with me. Even if I was trying to feel less guilt by attempting to push all blame onto him than myself, despite knowingly knowing I could have easily brought the matter to hands and stopped this chaos. And there was that shadow of guilt mixed with temptation following me. But you are attracted to the chaos. It's exciting and different. You're going to destroy Nick. You're are going against your morals.

Shane hadn't made any forward attempts to me, so I was content that once he'd left our home, I could relax for some while. Even if it only lasted for this remaining night.

Nick as usual was oblivious to my fighting thoughts, helping me with the dishes as he passed them over. I stood at the sink, massaging the sponge around the plate feeling soap studs move between my fingers. It was odd how once before this abrupt mess, I could stand here thinking how therapeutic washing dishes was, but now I faced an awkward dilemma making me feel in the shoes of a stranger. I felt detached from myself. No, it wasn't to say that I was chained to housework, no, Nick and myself were equal partners, but the daily aspect of it, felt alien. It felt like a lie. Washing up a metaphor to my attempt at clearing the mess, attempting to clear my head and life that I knew was no longer content towards. And Shane had only bought it ahead. It was a problem before he came. Was that was I what I was trying to say? All these thoughts could combust. I just didn't know what I was thinking anymore. I hated myself for these feelings. It wasn't fair on Nick, but it certainly wasn't fair on the marriage itself including me.

"So, that was a nice get together," he stated, passing me another dish, specifically the plate Shane had eaten off. Strangely enough, it felt like his presence lingered within the ceramic dish making me feel flustered that I had contemplated the idea of food entering his mouth, the exact mouth and lips I had shamefully studied. The best way to a man's heart, is food, hadn't they always said. It made the question of intimacy metaphorical.

"Yeah, it was alright," I replied, keeping my opinions away from the conversation.

"I think it's nice I'll have a friend just next door. Don't you?" Nick smiled taking the wet dishes and drying them with the tea towel he picked up off the side.

"Y-yeah," I managed to say, knowing that wasn't the case on how I felt towards their new-found possible relationship. I didn't want Shane and Nick to get close. I wanted them as distant as possible. 

***

It was around two in the morning, I hadn't even shut an eye. As usual, my nagging insomnia kept me up and about however instead of having anxiety towards my unhappiness, I was worrying about the Shane situation. And that also involved the work I had been staring at, reading over and over as if I'd discover something new or a logical answer. I had also tried in that time to figure out another plot, something else I could use to replace the one I knew was ultimately a price of my temptation. Nonetheless, this new idea wasn't surfacing, instead it would only fester for the one I'd had constantly on my mind.

I clicked onto Twitter, reading through the feed and answering as I went along. Then with a cautious look to the study's door, I opened up another tab quickly typing Shane's name. Nick had told me his full name, Shane Weston, something I had secretly mentally noted earlier after casually bringing up the topic to the conversation. Ahead of me, there was a profile linked to the page of a catering company just as he'd said, and just as he'd told me, he was a very influential man needing less hours at the office. He was the company's second director. My eyes traced the photo next to the body of text. It was him. Those brown eyes, dangerous and seducing, his tousled brown locks slicked back and the inviting subtle smirk dancing on his lips. Lips, I wanted to taste. Stop it, I told myself. I clicked back on the browser, stumbling then to a direct link to what I could only assume was his Facebook. It was him. The cover photo was a typical holiday pic to where I could only presume was a tropical beach destination from the sight of the evening sun and ocean waves. His profile photo had me gushing; black ray bans sunglasses, shirtless and in khaki shorts holding an alcoholic beverage in his hand. I stared longer than I should have, admiring his muscular physique. He was literally a model. His body was beyond different to Nick's, who was slimmer and less muscular. I had always told Nick if he ever gotten the dad body (if that was ever the case if we had children) I'd still find him attractive and sexy. Probably back when I was more committed to our marriage and not questioning its existence as I had been doing, now I had confessed it aloud in my mind.

Look at him, I told myself. Unaware that I was slouching my chin onto my propped up hand; daydreaming. And I was. I pictured myself beside him. Bikini on, a smile on my face and his hand around my waist. I tried to shove the image out, replace it with holiday pictures of me and Nick but it wouldn't work. It was just harmless though, right?

I shook my head, about to click it off when the sight of a woman in the timeline caught my attention. She was Chinese, had beautiful black sleek hair and was embracing Shane in what was a questionable status of intimacy. Was this the girl he'd recently split up. I clicked on the post.

Happy, happy. Love you @Shane Weston Two years anniversary. #mymanbetterthanyours

Published three months ago.

It was her. I didn't know how I felt but I must have only been kidding myself when I started investigating into her profile, reading her recent posts, looking for what exactly? The only thing I did manage to find, was her post announcing her engagement to some personal trainer three weeks ago. So, that settled it. Their relationship was really over. But how did that make me feel? Did I feel better? I don't know. But I knew at nearly half two in the morning, I was fooling myself from looking at it, so I went back a page landing onto Shane's again. This time I didn't question my lunatic search, browsing his photos that included his travels, friends, family and business. It took me further into his life than I should have. It meant I was becoming more tempted, more possibly attached. I stopped. Sighed to myself and clicked on my private Facebook profile, looking at the profile picture of myself and Nick, happily staring into the eyes of the camera. It was the time of our three year anniversary meal; both dolled up as a server took our photo. We looked madly in love, still I hoped.

Several comments beneath it complimented our love:

Looking so beautiful together.

Happy married couple.

Congrats on three year anniversary.

Hoping for grandkids.

Doesn't seem too long ago when you two were dating throughout secondary school. Madness!

My insides clenched. What had happened to us? To me? It didn't feel like me. But it was. And I loved Nick. I do love him. It's just a silly infatuation. Shane isn't who I love. It's Nick. I scoffed, clicking off my profile and leaning back in the desktop chair. All this nonsense would stop, and it could. I just had to make sure, there was no more funny business.

***

Thank fully when Saturday had arrived, I was content to say that yesterday I heard not a single word from my neighbour who I could only presume was wrapped up in business or finally taking the hint that messing in marriage was foolish. I liked to think though, that me and Nick were back on track, or that's how at least how I was feeling, but as it had been admittedly for the year, I wasn't flourishing with new energy. We had sex Friday night and it was beginning to feel, repetitive and pointless.

I'd just returned from a book signing and meet-up from the last book series, Mr Hot Stuff Series (Books 1-3). Nick was at home working on a spreadsheet filing in data he needed to do for the company when I entered the study after hollering to find out where he was. He was concentrating with his reading glasses on, madly jabbing away at the calculator beside the keyboard making calculations.

"Hey hun," he said, as I squeezed his shoulder, "how did it go? Sorry I got stuck doing this." He was still engaged within the calculation, scribbling notes onto a scrap piece of paper.

"Yeah, it went alright as you'd expect. I just need to get another series out soon. They're asking for it," I replied, straightening the edges of a pile of paper that was bugging me.

"And you will. Did you write anymore last night?" he asked me, pressing equals on the calculator.

"No." I shook my head. And that was the truth. After-all, since Thursday night I was trying to replace it with something else. That had been my aim. A promise to keep to myself and Nick for the sake of our marriage. To destroy my temptation.

"Ah, never mind. You've still got time. And at least you've got something to work with," he comforted, "oh yeah!" he piped up, dropping his pencil and slipping his reading glasses off. "I'm planning on having a night out with the lads. Up into the city for some drinks so I'm not sure what time I'll be back. I did ask Shane next door if he wanted to join but he said he couldn't. Busy or something? But you're okay with that, right?"

"I suppose." I shrugged my shoulders. "Just don't drink too much. You know what happened last time, you told the driver the wrong address with your pals, so you ended another two miles somewhere opposite side of the city," I lectured him.

"I know, babe. I won't drink as much. Hey, so what's your plans tonight then?" he asked, gently tapping his foot on the floor.

"I don't know. I guess I'll attempt to write. Or something. Don't worry about me," I said, folding my arms as I leaned up against the radiator on the adjacent wall to the desk.

"What about Angie or one of your other friends? They not going out?"

I shook my head. "Angie has just had a baby, so she needs to be at home until we can christen another night out. And as for the others, they hardly live close by. I'm not as popular friends wise, really. You know that Nick."

Nick clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "You have friends, babe. You just don't go out a lot and partly that's to blame for all those books you've sat writing the last three years or so. Besides, you've got me," he said, clapping his hands onto his knees gesturing for me to sit on it. I complied reluctantly as I rolled my eyes.

His knees were bony as I placed my bottom down, hanging my arms loosely around his neck. He smiled at me before pecking my lips gently. "I love you baby. I'll be a good behaving boy tonight," he childishly teased. I did cringe inside unusually finding his remark a little awkward. But my face and actions chose to comply, pecking his cheek and rubbing my thumbs across the blonde stubble on his cheeks.

"You need to shave," I told him.

"That I do," he agreed, beaming.

It was around eight when Nick left leaving me yet again to the solitude of my thoughts. Something, I despised yet strangely didn't mind. It gave me chance to think over things even if some things were wrong. I was downstairs in the kitchen turning the tap when immediately it busted spraying water out of the end. I screeched instantly defending myself against the velocity of the water hitting my face. I was drenched. Shit, I needed the emergency number for the plumber. I had been telling Nick the tap had felt funny the past week.

I headed for my phone on the counter but swiftly had to detour to the front door after three haste knocks. I groaned yelling that I was on my way, ignorantly forgetting that it could be no other than him. I shook my head. "I'm having trouble, so this isn't a good time," I told him, refusing to hear him out.

"Shit, you're...wet," he said, smirking the tiniest bit at the image of me standing there, wet and drenched through to my hair and a little across my t-shirt. I looked down, as if I hadn't noticed myself, cursing at the sight of my aroused nipples poking through. I'd taken off my bra.

"Yeah, well, no shit, genius," I snapped back, pushing the door to shut it.

"Can I help?" he suddenly asked, holding his hand out.

"If this is another one of your tricks, no. I told you I'm married, and I will not allow your behaviour. Now, 'scuse me I have to fix a leaking tap before my kitchen floods," I tell him, instantly praising my bluntness, and yet somewhat hoping I hadn't had the problem, knowing my temptation was interested. After-all look at him. That smouldering look could kill.

"I can help with that. Save you waiting on the plumber. I've stopped and fixed a bursting tap here and there. Slide aside," he commanded me, with me complying. I let him in. Cursing at how I was allowing this but if he could help me fix my problem, it was a bonus. As he swept pass me I caught the scent of his strong cologne, mildly stronger than Nick's usual. I inhaled it in.

He was heading for my kitchen, asking if I had tool box lying about. My husband's. I nodded heading to the cupboard under the stairs, opening the door as I grabbed the tool box. Barely used. Nick wasn't really a DIY sort of guy. I had more shares of the box than he. I'd put up the odd photo frame with nails or superglued broken items.

"Thank you," he said, his eyes glistening with humour as he studied my glance. He placed the box on the counter then began to lift up his black t-shirt. I held my breath, biting my bottom lip as I tried to look away, but it didn't work. I looked. I took it all in. The sight of those muscles right now in front of me. Those abs. I had to close my mouth promptly as he looked behind his shoulder at me.

"Take a picture," he teased, his broad shoulders moving as he leaned forward and tied his shirt to the buckle of his trousers. I mentally did, refusing to argue as he grabbed the tools necessary for the job and began to tackle the bursting tap. As soon as he dived under the cupboard moving items such as washing up liquid, washing powder and spare packets of sponges, I watched as water dripped down him. It was running down his skin like water dripping slowly down a window, following the contour of his well-built godlike physique making my mouth feel dehydrated. I didn't know it was that good to watch a man work on a tap.

His head ducked under the cupboard and I heard the works of a tool as he worked. I wasn't sure how long I could stand watching him, all tempting and wet. I had to force myself to look away.

"Hey, can you pass me the torch? I can't see shit," he asked. I complied, grabbing it from the box and heading towards him. He thanked me as he took it, our fingers brushing gently and igniting a flame deep in the pits of my stomach.

He worked on it for another two minutes until finally the tap stopped. It silenced as his head came from under the cupboard. His hands worked through his hair, slicking it back and making me feel wobbly at the knees. He looked like sex. And I wasn't helping myself at all by watching.

"All done," he told me as he stood up, "it's temporary until you get a plumber look over it, but it should mean no more leaking. Don't worry." He smirked. "I don't charge." Holding his hands up in defence before wiping the dripping tears of water off his chest causing another admirable appreciation from myself.

"Thank you," I said honestly, "I'll have a plumber come over tomorrow morning." I stood there awkwardly rubbing my palms together wondering what to do considering he was just standing there, basking in half naked glory tidying the tools away. "I can fetch you a towel if you want?"

"That would be neat. You might need one yourself," he replied, referring to my sodden top and hair. I took off to head upstairs. What was I doing I asked myself. He was in my house again. Surely, I should be telling him to go home. He could get his own towel and dry off there. Why was I starting up this again? I was leading my temptation on. Bad move.

"Here," I offered, handing the blue towel over to him. He took it, grinning before he rubbed his face and then hair. I didn't know what to do as I held mine between my fingertips. I just watched.

"You're doing a lot of staring," he remarked, humour laced within his cool tone.

I commanded myself to move, ignoring his comment as I dried the end tips of my hair with the towel.

"Fancy your husband not being home," he continued, "good job I was here."

"And n-now you can g-go," I stuttered, trying to sound confident as possible, "I'll be sure to pass it on to my husband who will probably thank you tomorrow."

"What if I don't want to leave?" he darkly suggested, edging towards me as he clasped the towel from my fingers and placed his own onto the counter along with mine. I didn't say a word, backing up to the opposite wall opposite the counter.

"You need---"

My words were cut off as his right hand moved onto the wall above my head as he looked down at me. I held my breath wondering why again I was putting myself in this situation. He wet his bottom lip, an odd wet strand of hair falling onto his forehead adding more to his sexy appeal. I wanted to taste his lips.

He leaned in slowly, his hot breath on my shoulder. I could feel his lips linger towards my neck. I balled my hands into fists, closing my eyes before gasping as I felt his lips press deep kisses onto my skin softly, before then  sharply sucking onto an area of my neck. My body naturally reacted; my back arching forward as he sucked the spot making me well aware that he was leaving evidence. His hands stayed away. But that didn't mean I could help my hands that began to slide around the back of his neck encouraging him to lean in closer. He stayed at the same distance. I wanted him. My mind was hungry. I wanted to feel his lips. I wanted to feel him inside of me. It was driving me nuts. My morals were flying out the window.

But then he pulled softly back from the spot, delicately trailing his lips again across the side of my neck causing more goose bumps to ripple across my skin. I couldn't stop the gasps of pleasure. I couldn't help it. His lips paused at the lobe of my ear until he pulled away.

He was dangerously grinning as he looked at me. I dropped my hands immediately, forcing them to my sides.

"Patience is a virtue," he muttered, huskiness laced throughout. Then he stepped back, walking away from me towards the front door as I pursued him.

I didn't say a word as the front door shut behind him. I was breathless. I couldn't even a manage a word. My hand instantly touched the spot on my neck. I gasped. Shit. Fuck.

THANK YOU FOR READING! IF YOU ENJOYED PLEASE VOTE, COMMENT AND SHARE! SHARE TO YOUR FRIENDS! LET THEM KNOW OF THIS NEW ROMANCE! ALSO, LET'S BOMBARD THIS WITH COMMENTS! TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT! WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ROSE'S MORALS? DO YOU FEEL SORRY FOR NICK? DO YOU LIKE THIS SHANE?

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VAMP