A/N at the end.

Chapter 11

Sakura stirred, emerging out of her cycle of deep sleep. Even with her eyes closed, enough consciousness returned that she began to register her environment through her other senses. A kind of pleasant warmth wrapped around her, so soothing that it was about to lull her into another round of slumber. With each slow inhale, she breathed in an earthy masculine scent that she couldn't quite understand why and how it existed with her in the comfort of her space. Instinctively, she wanted to snuggle closer to the source that gave her such gratifying sensation, but her progressively coherent mind refused, sounding alarms in her head about this unnatural condition:

To be cocooned in such heavenly warmth, it was something that she hasn't woken up to in the longest time…

Groggily, Sakura wondered where she was, like she almost always did after a nap. However, when a shock of red hair on the pillow next to her penetrated through her bleary vision, a sinking feeling began to pour down on her. Despite the slight puffiness that still weighed her eyelids down, it took but a second before she forced her eyes wide open. All desires for sleep gone, she became fully aware that the only things that protected her bare form from the mild chill in the air were the duvet covering her… and the warm body next to her, equally bare.

Her current circumstances shocked her, paralyzed her even. She laid stone-still, as though her brain no longer had the ability to command any movement out of her. Yet, her mind was wild, with all the horrifying thoughts springing up that she could barely contain. She knew exactly where she was, and what had taken place. In her desperate search for emotional support, she'd gotten more than what she'd looked for—or was it more? Because, in the heat of the moment, she was more than a willing participant. Now that the gravity of her horrendous act was catching up with her, her panic grew with the accelerating pace of her heart. All at once, mental images of earlier flooded her head in a way that she couldn't cope.

Her initial trepidation was doused out quicker than a candle in torrential rain. Before long, her rapidly brewing frustration over the friction caused by their clothed bodies pushed her to frantically try to unbutton his shirt while struggling to snake herself out of her own. The instant heat from his bare toned torso reminded her just how physically starved she'd been all these lonely years; then, she'd clung to him for dear life like the wretched depraved creature she was…

Sakura felt sick.

With her eyes on the back of her seemingly asleep partner, she slipped out of the cover as discreetly as she could manage at the present; her gingerly action contradicted the emotional hurricane raging inside her. When she straightened herself to put a foot forward, her steps wobbled as though her legs almost couldn't carry her weight. She wasn't sure if it was because of the bit of soreness in her inner thighs or something else. Doggedly ignoring this frivolous observation, and even more so the very real desire to crawl back into bed to ward off the crisp air her sensitive flesh was now exposed to, Sakura broke into a sprint to the bathroom as soon as she gained a solid footing.

Furiously splashing water from the running faucet against her face, she hoped to clear her mind but to no avail. Beads of water rolled down from her forehead, to her cheeks, to the tip of her chin; they continued down to her chest, streamed to her navel, then south, blending into a sort of stickiness that was there—a remnant of something that Sakura was trying hard not to dwell on. With dread, she lifted her head to see her own reflection. Even the dimness of the room couldn't obscure the fact that she was stark naked. Suddenly, the feeling of déjà vu overtook her, and her breathings became more rapid and shallow. She shut her eyes in her vain effort to ground herself, but it merely exacerbated the assault on her conscience by her fresh memories.

Starved and impatient, she contrasted his slow and measured moves by rocking into him with desperation, hungrily seeking out that sensation to bring herself to the climax. He seemed receptive of the signals she was sending him through her insistent movements. He gripped her hips, forcing her still to his mercy. Before she could rebel, he was slamming into her with such speed and force that she was gasping loudly and uncontrollably, forgetting her own name, forgetting who she was. The waves of pleasure and pain wrecked her body in the most blissful way, overwhelming all her senses and rapidly sending her over the edge until—

Sakura clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the nausea that was about to spill out of her stomach. The vivid recollection contaminated her mind, proof that she was all too sober. For once, she wished there was some alcohol in her system to share the blame of her crime. It was far too wrong, what she'd done. How could she...!

Before her panic attack could render her useless, she thought to run, to hide… and to disappear to a place where she could really reflect on the repercussions of her deed. She didn't know where precisely, but in the least, it certainly wouldn't be in the company of the man who she'd just shared bed with. Mustering every gram of mental and physical strength she could still salvage from within, she regulated her breathing and gathered herself just enough to exit the bathroom.

Her flight plan was temporarily foiled when, upon leaving the bathroom, she found herself immediately locking eyes with her now very much awake bedmate across from the room. He was quiet, as he stayed seated on the edge of the bed and kept an unreadable gaze on her. There was still light in the evening sky outside to illuminate the room through the partially drawn curtains, enough to highlight the mystery in his expression. Unable to hold the contact, Sakura dropped her gaze from his face; naturally, her eyes fell downward, to the lean muscles that shaped his body, his firm chest and abdomen, and the duvet that draped loosely around his hips with not much left for imagination. She'd caught herself involuntarily stealing a glimpse of his bold thighs and calves before obligating her focus elsewhere. In the process, her cheeks seared hot with shame and embarrassment.

Sakura willfully turned her head and body. Despite the intimate encounter they've had, she suddenly was too conscious of having him survey her in such an exposed state. She said nothing, as she redirected her attention to the scattered clothes on the floor. She moved with her arms across her front, somehow feeling the need to shield her naked form in whatever way possible from her observer. She beelined from one area to another, miserably collecting her garments and clothing herself. Still, she could sense his eyes stalking her every movement, the intensity of his scrutinizing stare stripping her down from her own skin.

It was already beginning to suffocate her, the thick silence in the atmosphere. The need to address the white elephant in the room was becoming urgent, more than what she was inclined to.

"I, you… we…" Her brittle voice finally produced, but she stumbled over her own sentence. Words had abandoned her, just like her rationality, she thought grimly.

"A-about earlier…" She shakily made a reach for her red top. "I…"

"I-I don't think I was in the right mind," clutching the fabric, she choked out. She felt like lashing out at herself, felt like beating herself… felt like crying.

Before liquid drops of guilt could drain from her tear ducts, a hand grasped her wrist tightly, stopping her in her motions. Caught off guard, she let out a startled gasp. When Sakura looked up from her half-bent position, Gaara was already in front of her in a similar posture. His seafoam eyes searched her face in an almost predatory fashion that electrified her, their intensity unabated. He was quick to loosen his grip on her, however, as they both rose to full height.

"You were not?" he spoke in a slow and low tone as though chewing on the words.

Her face still burned with heat, she strained to keep her eyes above his mid-section. Taking a step forward, he leaned in closer. She backed a matching step away with uncertainty. His advance continued, and she retreated with an unsteady gait like they were dancing an awkward tango until her back collided with the wall. His tall figure easily towered over her, as she shrank into her corner. Sakura gulped.

"What about now?" Trapping her with a palm against the hard painted surface to the right of her face, Gaara lowered his head to her level. With his lips floating by the shell of her ear, he questioned, "Are you in your right mind?"

She whipped her head to the side, squinting her eyes shut. For the life of her right now, she couldn't comprehend what and why he was asking her, or the unfamiliar way he was behaving. She'd not been in her right mind, she reasoned. Maybe him too? Though, more than anything, she was fearful that he'd feel the vibration of her heart hammering in her ribcage with his muscled body sheer inches away. Her body was communicating its betrayal in response to the magnetizing power of their physical proximity. Once his hot breaths descended upon her warm cheeks, her toes curled in anticipation.

When Sakura had re-opened her eyes, the single thought that came across her mind was whether what she saw in his eyes was mirroring her own: Anticipating and wanting once again—something she dearly hoped that her facial expression wasn't giving away… His relentless gaze was smoldering her in her spot. Sparks of flames leaped within her, and they were setting alight her entire being; a fire flaring up between her legs.

"L-let's just forget about what happened." Her resistance was crumbling like her weak words. It was her last poor attempt at an escape.

But the invitation was already apparent through her body language; and he seemed to read her well, because he'd pressed himself closer.

"Let's..." Dissolving the distance between them, he captured her in an irresistible kiss; and whispered into it a denial to her meaningless plea. "…not."

The clothes in Sakura's hand fell to the ground then, as her arms automatically came to tangle around his neck and her body had readily decided for her that she should get lost in his kisses again.

Soon, she could no longer hear the screams in her head over her unrestrained moans. That was when she decided she'd finally lost her goddamn mind…

The hot water around her swooshed, as Sakura hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. Sitting in her bathtub, she stared unblinkingly at the tub spout, almost hypnotized by the droplets of water leaking from it. The rays of the early morning sun now shone through her bathroom window, bringing about the end of an unthinkable night.

Only a couple of hours earlier, Sakura had woken up for the second time in a strange bed, to the muffled sound of shower behind the closed bathroom door. So she did the only logical thing she knew: She got into her clothes and took off from the place as fast as possible, managing to make her way home surreptitiously while trying to tune out the strong déjà vu that was claiming her once again. This was becoming a pattern with her—inadvertently ending up in his hotel room, waking up in his bed, and quickly fleeing the scene.

It was almost comical, if it weren't for the real magnitude of the situation.

Even in the safety of her own apartment, she felt no comfort. Her head was as painfully full as ever, but she was unable to get rid of the terrible thoughts. All of a sudden, she felt too numb to think. She'd committed the ultimate transgression, not once, but twice. Surely, making a count of this was beyond relevant after the first time she'd given in to the temptation. Though truthfully, and deep down she knew, she'd taken that step and breached the boundary long before last night; she was just as guilty then… when, for the first time, she'd found her thoughts drifting to the red-haired man on one of her lonesome nights.

"Mama."

Sakura jerked her head up, her eyes snapping to where the voice started in the direction of the bathroom door. It'd cracked open wide enough for Sarada to peek in.

"Where were you last night? I didn't see you when I got back. Were you at the hospital?" her daughter asked, as she stifled a yawn.

"Ah, um, yeah." Sakura mumbled, her tone withering.

"Is everything okay?"

"Mm-hmm..." To Sarada's question, she replied absently, a feeble nod accompanied her lie—No, everything was not okay. Things couldn't be any more messed up.

A small lift of eyebrow came and went, before Sarada settled for a different question. "By the way, is Gaara-ojisan still around? Do you know how long he's staying?"

At this, Sakura paled. The particular name haunted her more than ever. "I'm not sure..."

The raven-haired girl continued without reservation, "If you see him, can you thank him for the birthday present for me? Can you also ask if he has time to train me?"

Sakura took a careful minute to study her child's face. Her gaze softened at the hopefulness in her expression. She concurred, "Okay."

With a content smile and a click of the door, Sarada left to carry on with her own agenda for the day, oblivious to the emotional unrest that afflicted her mother.

Sakura sighed heavily in her privacy. Placing her chin over her knees again, she inhaled the sweet scent of her favorite vanilla soap on her. The smell of sex was washed away and long gone from her skin. What wasn't so easily erased was the sensation of his hands and lips on various parts of her body; she recalled it, as she grazed her skin with her own fingers, following the invisible trails where the ghost of his touches and kisses lingered. A part of her, a part that her mind was desperately trying to deny, reveled in how refreshed her body felt. It was one thing that she'd—to her surprise—snoozed a good few hours in the presence of her partner, which finally relieved her body of the effects from the sleep deprivation she'd felt lately. It was another to have had an amazing release from all these years of pent-up frustration.

She used to believe that she'd transcended all things physical in her marriage to Sasuke, and that their relationship was of a spiritual one, connected by feelings…

—Oh god, who was she kidding with this crap? Sakura snorted, as she crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself; the tenderness in her breasts from the way they'd been kneaded was still felt. If she wanted to practice abstinence, she could've become a nun. The fact that her body had reacted with abandon to Gaara's sensual exploration was confirmation that there were just some things that couldn't be satisfied with a poke to the forehead.

The temperature of the water was becoming tepid. She'd sat in the bath too long, Sakura figured; her fingers and toes have started to wrinkle. Pushing herself out of the bathtub, she wrapped a towel around her body and walked over to the bathroom vanity. She wiped the mist off the mirror. As Sakura regarded the person in the reflection, she saw the same chopped pink hair and the same green eyes… But, she wasn't sure who it was anymore.

There was one thing, though, she could be sure of… That she was fighting a losing battle to her vices, and her conscience couldn't expel the greed that her physical and emotional needs all fed into.

Propelled by this line of thought, she quickly dried herself and changed into a new set of clothes before she found herself at the threshold of her apartment's entrance. Pausing, she glanced over her shoulders. At the empty room inside, Sakura bit out a hard bitter laugh.

If what she did and what she now had in mind to do was a betrayal to her marriage, then who was to say that the kind of abandonment she felt and the years of unfulfilled expectations from the other party wasn't?

Her own twisted logic was her driving force. Then she turned on her heels and stepped out, slamming the front door shut and leaving her guilt behind.

A/N: Ah, edited this in a hurry to post on time. Will look it over again when I get the time later to make any necessary fixes. Thank you for reading! Next up will be Gaara's POV!