I didn't dare need to look in the mirror knowing the small redness inflaming the right side of my neck was no other than a fresh hickey. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe myself. What was wrong with me? I didn't object, I didn't even move a muscle in disgust. I was more than content. And now I had the trouble of trying to cover it, knowing that if Nick ever laid eyes on it, it would be a big time for me. For us. Shit, fuck, asshole, I cursed aloud. My stick of concealer would do justice but that didn't mean it completely rid of the evidence. I felt it. It burned. Not literally. But I knew it was there even if it was hidden. And, yes, I was brushing tonight under the carpet. My mouth would remain zipped. No one could know.

He knew what he was doing. It was obvious. He was teasing me like I was his prey. And I was gladly laying myself out in the open road for him. I can't help myself, can I? He's constantly on my mind and when I try to fester some courage to resist, I end up being snatched into his trap like a spider and a fly. But, it's so different. These feelings are unusual, they're not like how I felt or feel with Nick. My body screams, my heart begs, and my feet follow. My mind doesn't even seem it can come up with rational excuses anymore.

I detest my behaviour. At that moment, all I wanted to do was storm out the door and stomp on over to his and shout. But that was dangerous so instead I opted to bleed words onto paper. I headed to my study opening that document and went on a frenzy, writing. My fingers speeding across letters as I furiously let the emotions caged inside burst out. I developed the protagonist's lover further, making him a intense, growing tease, a silly infatuation and irresistible to the helpless protagonist, aggravated by her feelings towards him. I added along the lines how she was devoted to her husband and he (the guy next door) was just some silly flirt. At that point, I didn't care for the similar resemblance, I just wanted to let it out. I needed myself to know and he that I couldn't be controlled. I wasn't tempted, and this story wasn't to be my own.

With the raging monster of insomnia keeping me at bay from sleep, I heard the front door open. I was in bed lying on my side as I had been for the past two hours looking into thin air, and contemplating. I stopped writing at eleven finally feeling that I had released some of the stress. I glanced towards the bedside clock reading three am. It must have been Nick from the sound of the keys being turned in the door. If he was drunk, I probably needed to check on him in case, so I sat up and flung the duvet cover off my legs.

As expected when I looked down the stairs, I saw Nick struggling to take his shoe off. He was trying to take off his left laced shoe. If he wasn't careful, he was going to end up falling onto his bottom as I watched him hop around like a madman, swaying side to side.

"Nick," I hissed, going down the steps, "here, I'll help you. I don't want you knocking your head on the sideboard. How much have you been drinking?" I asked, gesturing him to sit on the end step and I took to untying his shoes laces.

"N-not a lot," he muttered, swatting his hand in the air. "I'm f-ffine."

"No, you're drunk, that's what. Let's get you to bed," I told him as I helped him up, and led him upstairs. I could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. His hair was messy including his neat quiff that had fallen forward onto his forehead.

Getting him into to bed wasn't as hard as I removed his jacket, shirt and trousers before tucking him in. And as I expected, he was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. I looked at him, trying to reassure myself that this was the man I'd committed myself to. I did love him. Just maybe I wasn't in love with him anymore. My hand naturally touched the spot on my neck making me feel guilt in the form of bile rise up the back of my throat. What was I doing?

By the time morning came around, I had probably had about four hours sleep, if that. I didn't feel exhausted, unlike Nick who was still sleeping soundfully as I poured myself a cup of tea, downstairs in the kitchen. At least, he didn't have work. It was Sunday so lying in was acceptable for him.

As I clinked the teaspoon on the rim of the mug, I felt that ship of misery sail in. And it wasn't guilt gnawing away at me. I felt miserable. I couldn't have lied if I didn't say I hadn't dreamt of Shane. Hadn't imagined our bodies clinging together, his name slipping off the end of my tongue and wondering what it could have felt like beneath him. I touched my neck. Still there. Still the taste of his mouth there.

"Hey hun."

I nearly dropped my teaspoon in the mug as I jumped. Nick was up, in his blue boxer briefs and his naked feet slapping against the linoleum floor as he walked into the room. "You're up, I see," I said, handing him the cup of tea I had made for myself, but I decided I didn't feel like drinking it.

"Yeah, I hate sleeping in all day. Besides, I don't feel too tired now," he replied, thanking me as he cupped the mug and took a light sip. "I needed that." He smiled placing the cup on the counter before he embraced me into his arms.

"I'm sorry if I came in a little drunk last night. I wasn't too bad, was I?" he asked, swaying me gently left to right in his arms as I loosely held onto his upper arms.

"No... you were fine," I admitted, knowing that I wasn't even mad that he was drunk. "You were proper drunk, but you went to sleep as soon as your head hit the pillow," I told him, detaching away from him as I headed towards the sliver fridge. I deliberately looked at the wall, the wall  where Shane had, had me against. I felt his presence there, could almost see him snickering at my marriage, the shambles I knew I was starting to feel committed to. I hated to admit it---at least admitting it in my mind.

"Ah, well that's good," Nick said, "so, I was thinking of heading on over next door. Football's on. And I thought what's better for curing a hangover, huh? You're more than welcome to join if you want...but I didn't know if you're planning on writing today?" he suggested sheepishly, picking up the mug of tea again.

"Oh."

"Is that okay? Because afterwards, I was thinking of taking you to that Italian restaurant we like down the road. Sound fun?" he asked, encouraging me with that adorable smile I'd once would have swooned over a thousand times. I didn't complain, I just nodded accepting his peck on my right cheek before he disappeared to get changed.

***

Turns out after Nick had spent the day at Shane's whilst I remained shacked up trying to figure out what the hell I had written over the night including revisiting that exact moment, I wasn't expecting that our date  to the Italian restaurant would include Shane,  essentially third-wheeling it. Once Nick was aware that Shane had been sat a couple tables from us after entertaining clients on that Sunday evening, Nick had decided to invite him across once the guests had departed. It would be only a coincidence that the man I was refusing to look at, happened to be here tonight and sat opposite me. Was this planned? Was Nick trying to push me further from him?

When I did, look, discreetly. I held the sight of those lips in my view, admiring the way they moved each word around them. I pictured how they'd been intimately upon me. The sight of him made me mentally drool than the sight of my meatball special before me. The broadness of those shoulders, the snug fit of his suit jacket and crisp white buttoned shirt, the first two buttons undone exposing that flesh I had seen yesterday. A man's suit was lingerie. And as I sat there, distantly listening to my husband's and his interaction, I let those tempting thoughts sink into me. How I wanted to unravel him. I wanted to feel his hands on me. Those lips.

"Rose, rose."

I blinked, anxiously jabbing my fork into the meatball before me. Shane looked over to me, that dark, hidden smirk upon his lips as I met his lustful eyes, blatantly ignoring my husband's addressment of me.

"Rose isn't that right?" Nick tried again.

"Yeah, sure." I nodded, smiling sweetly at him, not even aware what I was agreeing to or praising.

"I see," Shane coolly said, smirking towards me.

"I always say she gets inspired from me," Nick laughed, squeezing my hand on the table. I blinked. Wait. Was he telling him about the genre I write? 

"It's always the quiet ones," Shane muttered, amusement laced within his tone. Nick chuckled agreeing with him before they tuned their conversation onto another topic. I held my breath and clenched my fork. Shit. But what did I expect? If he hadn't already searched my name like I had shamefully browsed, he should have been aware what I wrote about. Did that change things? I couldn't tell as I studied his face. Maybe, he found me pathetic. A hopeless romantic. Hardly. I was constantly doubting my marriage.

It was about nine when we left. We'd just got out of our taxi we'd all shared. Nick had told us that we should get a taxi in case both of us decided to drink. I had about three glasses of red wine that evening just to try and calm my unsettling nerves. And coincidentally, Shane had also came up here by taxi meaning Nick had no objections when he asked if he could share a ride home with us.

I was glad to be heading towards our driveway wanting as far as possible to get away from him until I heard Nick's prompt suggestion that Shane should join us for another glass inside. He agreed of course. And my fears of being left in the same room with him, again, came true. Nick was unscrewing the whiskey bottle, chattering along until he was silenced by the ring of his phone. He passed the bottle to Shane, apologised to me and headed out the living room to answer it.

Shane began to unscrew the lid. I kept my eyes to the floor, clenching the spine of the wine glass within my fingertips. He cleared his throat. Then I heard the soft trickle of liquid, my eyes inconspicuously looking over at the sight of it swimming around the frosted glass held within his hand. I immediately drew my eyes elsewhere, when I spotted the curl of his lips.

"You shouldn't be here," I hissed, aware of Nick's conversation erupting from the kitchen.

"And why's that? I was invited inside," he replied, kissing his teeth after he relished the mouthful of whiskey he'd tasted. "How's the tap?" he innocently asked, right eyebrow raised and swirling the whiskey within the glass teasingly.

Shit, I forgot to tell Nick. Like how you forgot to tell Nick that your neighbour has been casually flirting with you and you allowed him in our home to leave a hickey on your neck, I thought. I frowned. I'd have to tell him that later. My real problem at the moment was the man sitting adjacent to the door on the three-seater sofa.

"You need  to leave. You need to stop this... game!" I snapped back, trying as best to keep my voice low and not spark Nick's interest. However, he was still on the phone as I could hear, as we both could hear.

"What game?" he teased, before taking another mouthful of whiskey. An innocent smile strengthened as I scolded.

I was about to respond when Nick's unexpected intrusion sliced my words into thin air. He looked a little fed up as he slid his phone into his trouser pocket. "I'm real sorry, babe," he began, running his hand through his hair frustratingly. "That was work."

"Work is calling  you on a Sunday?" I frowned, forgetting Shane's presence within the room.

"Yes. They need to me to head on over to headquarters. We've got this dilemma. Either there's a glitch in the system or we've had some money incorrectly dispersed. They need me to come in now to review the financial account. They've promised to book a near by hotel for me for the night, so I won't be coming back until tomorrow some time," he explained, vexed as he shoved his hand in his pocket.

"But at this time?"

"Yes. The business never sleeps. I'm really sorry, hun---"

"---It's fine," I interjected, shaking my head, "it's work and that's important."

Nick nodded sternly. "I'm sorry, man," he said towards Shane who attracted my attention once again reminding me that he was still in the room and in between our conferring matter. "I was looking forward to cracking another bottle or two. You understand?"

Shane held his hands up in surrender. "No worries. It's business. I should know."

Nick sighed with some relief. "Well, I better just go pack some stuff. You're more than welcome to stay longer. I'm sure Rose won't mine and it's company she could do with."

"I'm more than happy to give her company," Shane replied. I tensed. I couldn't really argue with Nick here. I would though once he left. I'd tell him to go and stop these mind games.

I stood up trying as best to appear affectionate towards my husband. "Well, just phone me tomorrow morning and text me later when you get to your hotel," I told him, kissing his lips gently, knowing at the back of my mind that Shane was watching.

And I couldn't have been more secretly obsessed on wondering what he was thinking...

THANK YOU FOR READING! CLIFFHANGER ALERT! IF YOU ENJOYED PLEASE VOTE, COMMENT AND SHARE! LET'S JUST SAY THE NEXT CHAPTER COULD GET...INTERESTING. ;) 

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VAMP