His fingertips pressed into the flesh of my hips as his erection grew harder, his pace like a count to a simple one-two-three beat, as I lay beneath him, strangely fed-up. He grunted, chanting my name as I felt useless, feeling like a passenger distantly watching my own body, move back and forth, whilst, he fucked me. Eventually, he peaked his climax, weakening as he slid out gradually, panting as he lay back beside me. I felt nothing as I looked towards the white ceiling, counting the popcorn terrain.

"Ah, woah!" I heard him exclaim, his side of the bed dipping as he sat up, "that was magical, baby. How are you feeling? You okay, babe?" he leaned over to me, rubbing his index finger across my stomach.

I had to blink. It felt like I hadn't for an eternity. It took effort to distract myself from the daydreaming I'd felt only moments ago completely ensnare me. He was still affectionally tickling his finger across my stomach, watching me through the darkness. "Of course," I muttered, nodding perhaps more than I needed to as I sat up. "I'm just gonna get a glass of water then I'll join you back in bed." Then I slipped off the bed, grabbing my silk black dressing gown from off the beige carpet floor and left through the bedroom door.

Everything was perfect. I'd recited that through my head. What more could I have wanted? It didn't feel that way sometimes. After, fetching a glass of water from the kitchen, I steered away from returning upstairs and headed for the conservatory, an extension to the back of the house which held a comfy, grey two-seated couch and plush blue pillows. It was the perfect spot to look out to the night sky, a perfect place to reflect and cleanse my thoughts. Something, I'd noticed I was doing often regularly. I couldn't held that sigh that left my lips as the water lapped up the sides of the glass from the interruption of my hands swirling it around in its transparent cage. It hadn't always been like this. After-all, I had the husband, I had affordable mortgage on a four-bedroomed house, I had the dream job all before the age of thirty. Forgodssake, I was only twenty five. What possibly more could I want? But if that was the case, why had I found sex with Nick, my husband, so mundane. It seemed like a routine, every Sunday, anytime when he wasn't away, we'd had sex, I'd lay there, bored, wondering why I was so miserable. Was something wrong with me?

I stood up, placing the glass on the centre island counter returning from the conservatory before heading through the corridor towards the central living room, scouting the room at the commodities. On the firewall, held Nick and mine's wedding photo, our five year's anniversary would be next month. The photo looked like a stranger; a lost past. What had changed? I was so happy back then.  The way our eyes looked at each other in that photo would make any possible couple long for that connection. A connection I'd felt I'd strangely lost. My fingers rubbed the sides of my temple as I miserably sat into the leather one-seater, staring into the thin air. I didn't feel like sleeping. I hadn't felt like sleeping lately. I suspected insomnia. Always that nagging voice within my head, continually thinking, talking like an orchestra of music not allowing me time to sleep. What was wrong with me?

***

"Rose. Rose." I felt some force nudging my shoulder, stirring me from the pits of sleep forcing me to open my eyes and register their presence. It was Nick, his strawberry blonde hair was combed neatly back, his stubble almost non-existent from a morning's shave and that strong cologne attacked my senses, making me feel more alert. "Babe, you must have fell asleep downstairs. It's seven o'clock. You okay?" he asked, standing up tall then as he adjusted his grey tie.

I nodded glancing to my surroundings. I must have just decided to drift off. Shit. "W---" I began to speak but my words fell short.

"---I've got to go to work soon, hon. You'll be okay, won't you? I'm sorry I didn't tell you this Friday, but the company has got me on another two day trip out of town. I'll be back Wednesday, love," he cut in, a lousy smile crept onto his lips as I sat up, confused and noticing the mini black suitcase.

"What do you mean Wednesday? And company trip?" I said, standing up and wrapping my robe tighter around my body consciously aware that the curtains were open.

"It was short notice. The company needed me to aid them on offering financial advice to one of our headquarters that is running at a risk at the moment. I need to draft them a plan to ensure money isn't being wasted and is being dispersed correctly. You know how it is, hon. Besides, it's only till Wednesday," he explained, shrugging his shoulders as he grabbed his black trench coat off the radiator at the back of the sofa I'd slept on.

"What the hell, Nick!" I argued, throwing my hands in the air, "you seriously couldn't have told me this Friday. I told you I had an event this Tuesday afternoon. So, you're telling me you're gonna miss it out now?"

He shook his head, cooing as he embraced me within his arms. I didn't even feel remotely safe within them as perhaps in the past I'd once had. Nothing was making sense to me anymore.

"I'm sorry, baby," he comforted, rubbing his hand up and down my back. "It wasn't intentional. They demanded my presence. You know how they can be, babe. I'm in a competitive workspace. Besides, I promise that I'll phone you Tuesday afternoon and you can tell me all about it, okay?" I said nothing, so he persisted. "Okay?"

"Yes! Okay," I snapped, frowning as I pulled back from him and folded my arms. "I really wish you would tell me these things, Nick. It's not exactly---"

---"Hey, hey, I know and I'm sorry. I just forgot. You can't stay mad at me, baby. I know you can't. Look, I gotta go because I will be late. I'll phone you tonight at the hotel, okay? Now, you have a good day," he told me, kissing my lips quickly then turning to grab his remaining stuff. I wasn't even sad that I wouldn't see him for two days, I was just mad I wasn't being told these things. It annoyed me. But I supposed I should have been used to this considering Nick was hardly at home. The tech company he'd worked for always had him on business trips. It wasn't even four weeks and he'd only returned from Hong Kong.

I stood at the threshold of the front door, biting my bottom lip as I tried to not look that miserable as I waved him off. He waved from the driver's seat, the red metallic SUV driving off our driveway soon disappeared out of sight as he left our small neighbourhood.

It didn't take me much effort to then shower, change and plop on my reading glasses as I set up the computer. Since the age of twenty three, I was a best-selling author for contemporary romance. I could remember it like it was yesterday, I was already nearly three years into my happy marriage and it was then I got the call. The publishers accepted my manuscript and before I could even blink my eyes, I was making a profit. Sales after sales, I was signing books, going to events, attending to interviews on the television and radio promoting my authorship. It was Red Thorn the name of my first book, a story between two childhood sweethearts. It was strange to think how I remembered detailing the hot romance between the two characters as something like between me and Nick. Now, it seemed ridiculous.

Since then, I had, had thirty fives book on the market, at least 25 million sold, translated in several languages across the world, and now, I was so pathetic that the blinking text cursor had been stuck on a blank document for three months. I felt like I'd lost my creative spark. My readers flooded my twitter asking when the next book would be out, when they'd be fed that romance they'd longed. I felt like a complete failure. Even my agent was pestering me, telling me I needed to get another one out, I had to keep up the buzz. Nick had tried to comfort me telling me that I was just stuck in a temporary long writer's block and it would soon go, but I knew deep down that this just wasn't that. My writing seemed off, my plots cliché, the dialogue terrible and I just couldn't see ever getting that creative blossom. It was over.

I scanned through Twitter. Posts after posts. Where are you? When's your next book coming out? Is romance dead? "What's wrong with me?" I groaned, switching off the monitor. I picked up my phone from off the desk, dialling in a number listening to the echoes of ringing within my ear. "Hey," I said dully.

"You okay?" It was my closest friend, Angie. I'd met her at a convention, she was also an author. Married, had a baby boy and an adoringly husband. The only difference, she lived in the city, and I lived on the outskirts within the rural-urban district; something me and Nick deliberately chose for bringing up children. That was another conversation we'd barely were able to communicate over without arguing. He never wanted to speak about it.

"No," I confessed, taking my glasses off and sliding them to the side. "Am I going crazy?"

"Why? You seeing things?" she joked, the sounds of honking horns, chatter of conversation echoed through the phone. "Sorry, I'm just heading into a meeting. The publishers have a pitch they want to try with me. That's the noise you're hearing. So, what's up?" She must have sensed something was not right with me.

"I don't know, Angie. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I haven't even written a word for three months and when I do, it's just utter shit. And then there's Nick, he's always working away. And don't even get me started on the sex," I replied, letting all of it go.

She laughed. "Hon, I know you. You just need to relax. The idea will come to you when you at least expect it. You've just got to stop forcing it. And Nick? What's wrong with the sex?"

"I don't know...I feel like I don't even enjoy anymore," I said, rubbing my temple with vexation, "is that bad? Does that mean I don't like sex with him anymore?"

"No, no, of course not. Maybe, you just need to spice things up more in the bedroom. You'll work through it. Look, I know tomorrow you've got that book signing event. How about afterwards, we go catch a drink down at a bar? I've got to go now so we can talk more then," she suggested.

"Yeah, that would be great. I'll see you then." I then hung up feeling no better than I did before. Something was really up with me.

***

I had given up. The entire morning, afternoon I had backspaced on the keyboard so many times that I was sure that I had probably broken the key. It was just no use that I decided to head on out for food shopping, coming home at about four o'clock. I was pulling up onto the driveway when I noticed a large van and a car parked outside the house next-door. Someone must have been moving in. I knew the house had been on the market for a month after the last residents had gone. The prices for the houses in this neighbourhood were expensive, something I and Nick had been able to afford once his career lifted off and my own. I was curious to who they were. A doctor? A lawyer? It didn't bother me for long as I was soon lifting the bags of shopping from the boot hoping I could settle down, make myself a coffee and at least attempt to write a word or two.

"Good afternoon!"

I looked over, startled as the sight of a man waving at me from the other side of the hedge that separated our front lawns. The sudden intrusion caused me to drop a bag immediately submitting their presence as they headed on over towards me. I swallowed not expecting a tall, dark brunette, handsome specimen to be assisting my troubles.

"Sorry, about that," he apologised, lifting up the bag off the floor and holding it still as he studied me, and I the same. My heart hammered, my knees felt like jelly. His chiselled jawline, his broad smile and set of pearly white teeth, and evident muscular physique through his t-shirt had caught me off guard. Had he just walked out from one of my books?

"It's---it's okay," I stuttered, blinking several times as I tried to stop staring.

His smile only broadened. "I apologise. I hope I didn't break any eggs or something." He lifted up the bag, his hand feeling the bottom of it. I couldn't help but stare at the sight of his veins evidently at his wrists, a noted description I had used over and over within tales of romance. "I'm just moving in next door. Thought I'd say hello. Er, I'm Shane." He offered his free hand extending it towards me.

"Sorry," I apologised, shaking my head, "I'm Rose. It's a pleasure to welcome you to the neighbourhood." Then I took his hand, instantly tensing at the sudden tingling sensation running through my fingers to my toes. This was so strange.

"Do you want some help with the rest?" he referred to the shopping bags I was carrying.

"Erm. I'm okay but---"

---"At least allow me to carry this in just so I can heroically say I helped with something," he teased, a flirtatious approach as it seemed to me. I didn't hesitate as I nodded, watching as he lips curled upwards and he headed up the driveway. My feet followed, and my eyes were studying the frame of his back, every time he tensed, his muscles hugged the material as he moved. God. Stop staring I told myself. I'm married for goodness sake.

"Thanks, you can just drop it here," I told him as he placed the bag onto the kitchen counter.

"Nice place you've got here." He looked around.

"Thank you," I meekly replied. I wasn't sure why I felt so bashful. I wrote romance novels for good ness sake. I was pretty sure I could handle one handsome stranger who was happened to now be my next door neighbour.

"I'm glad I was able to catch you. I haven't seen another soul in the neighbourhood to introduce myself," he said, his deep voice filling each corner of the room. Even the way he spoke reminded me of my characters.

"Oh, really? Er, you moved from out the city or something?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah. I needed some time away from that hectic scenery. The business I own sorta runs itself, so I'm just settled on trying to settle down, focus on myself and all. And you? If you don't mind me asking, that is if you don't mind?" He was leaning back on the counter; his toned arms flexed each time they moved. God have mercy, I thought.

"Erm, I'm sorta a writer. Just writing bits and bobs here and there," I said, glad that my identity wasn't acknowledged. I also totally made no mention of my husband. But, neither did he? And he could be married for all she knew. His wife or husband, or whoever could just be packing things away.

"Wow. I guess if I'm ever in need of creative intuition I can call upon you," he replied with grin attaching itself to his lips. Was that flirty?

"I suppose," I chuckled lightly, "erm, well, thanks for well, not breaking my eggs and helping me heroically take it into the house."

He laughed. It sounded so sexy when he did. "You're very welcome. Thank you for welcoming me to the neighbourhood, Rose. I guess I will be seeing you around."

And then he left.

And I couldn't decipher why I was suddenly feeling so...alive.

THANK YOU FOR READING! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK? IF YOU ENJOYED PLEASE VOTE, COMMENT AND SHARE! ALSO, DID YOU KNOW BOSS UNDERCOVER IS NOW UP FOR PREORDER ON KINDLE AND WILL BE COMING OUT THIS AUGUST, 28!!!

THANK YOU,

VAMP