Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters associated with it.

Dear Reader,

If you have not read the Author's Note on the previous chapter update, I implore you to do so. Our story takes somewhat of a dramatic shift from here forward. If you find yourself feeling confused in any way, I encourage you to revisit my note. Thank you. - Olly

A One Month Bet

What. Have I. Done?

Sakura raced down, left, another left. Right? No – forward… then a right. The Kazekage mansion, despite having been her home for the better part of three weeks, suddenly felt alien. She hadn't paid enough attention as Gaara had led her to the roof, and now in her desperation to escape she felt frantic and unable to retrace their path backwards. Upon finally making it to a landing she barely recognized in the dark, she turned into what she expected to be an empty hallway, only to suddenly collide with a hard but unmistakably human, barrier. The gruff exclamation of surprise she received was enough to give that away, and her Shinobi evasion training clicked in systematically. She realigned her footing and darted impossibly fast around the following corner, even as she heard the voice ask, "Sakura?"

In that moment she did not know or even care whom she had passed. She only sought her room, her refuge, pitiful as it was to try and think her quarters in the Kazekage mansion would somehow protect her from the Kazekage. But in this moment it was all she had, and so like a child frightened of the dark she finally slipped into her room, closed her door with something barely short of a slam, and slid down to a seated position with her back pressed against the door. Heavy, shaky breaths tore through her chest and hot tears stung in her eyes while her mind reeled over what had just happened.

You stupid, stupid idiot! her mind wailed. In her rage Sakura grasped her head in her hands and squeezed, trying to contain her racing thoughts as though she could actually hold them between her fingertips. How could she have lost control like that? She had been training from the time she was a child to control her senses; to use them and hone them for battle, even occasionally use them for espionage. Just now she was a slave to her senses, getting lost in them, acting like an animal in heat… She was a Kunoichi! An honored member of the Hidden Leaf Shinobi, the Hokage Tsunade's apprentice, and one of the most accomplished ninja in her rank. What had happened on the roof just now shamed her, disgusted her to her core. Didn't she have more respect? If not respect for her rank, her position, her village, she should've at the very least had more respect for herself rather than rolling over blindly for the Sunagakure Kage and moaning for him like a horny teenager…

What had come over her? Something animalistic had escaped from Sakura in a way she hadn't expected. Despite her feeble attempts at maintaining the façade of "a lesson", she kept slipping in and out of awareness, as if a fogginess had clouded the voice of Inner Sakura until all she could hear, feel, smell, and taste was… him. She hadn't felt these feelings in her body for a long time, and surely they had never been this intense. Sakura had had her share of "romantic" excursions in her brief few years of adulthood. She knew what happened behind closed doors once the kissing progressed to the next obvious step. But as she reminded herself, those excursions were always short-lived either due to waning interest or Tsunade's ever-ready mission assignments. Sex was like… scratching an itch. And frankly she didn't feel itchy all that often. She was perfectly content to focus on her work, her missions, her apprenticeship.

But being with Gaara just now… that was more than an itch. She had readily lost herself in him, and her body welcomed his every move. It was the moment that Gaara had settled over her, had pressed his hot, hard body against her that she felt it. He was… hard, she gulped. Heat raced through her blood again, sending a spasm of electricity through every part of her body. When Gaara had pressed himself fully against her, she felt his erection between her thighs and her body had reacted of its own accord. How loud had her moan been? They were on the top of the Kage tower… had it echoed over the nearby rooftops? Had unsuspecting late-night passersby heard witness to her embarrassment?

Maybe it wasn't that loud… Inner Sakura crooned hopefully. Surely it was just a little moan…

But there was certainly at least one audience member that definitely noticed it. The damn fool that made it happen.

Gaara.

Sakura's heart rate, which had momentarily slowed as she recovered from her narrow escape, suddenly picked up pace again. She felt the heat of his body all over again, the brush of his heavy breaths matching with her own, the pull of his strong hands grasping the nape of her neck. But the moment she had felt him, strong and hard above her, she knew a line had been crossed. As poised and deceptive as the Kazekage could be, that particular moment could not have been faked. Their moment together had dipped harder and faster into real intimacy before she realized or could stop it. She had been too enveloped in him, delighting in the delicious feelings that were blossoming to life inside her body.

But what did it mean? Sakura wondered furiously. One moment they were casually sharing a drink and bemusing their budding friendship, and the next they were feverishly making out on the roof. The trajectory of this made no sense to Sakura, and she shoved herself angrily from the floor, only to be pulled back suddenly a second later. In a moment of shock and disgust, she realized she was still wearing Gaara's robe, on which her foot had snagged when she tried to stand. With a growl of frustration, she freed herself of the assuming fabric and tossed the garment to the opposite side of the room. It disappeared into the shadows on the floor like a guilty pet knowing its master was angry with it.

The fog was clearing from Sakura's mind, and its place a new feeling of anger and betrayal was emerging. A lesson… she scoffed. He wanted another "lesson". Perhaps this was all just a ruse, after all. She felt she had made a fool of herself the first time they kissed, knowing fully well by this point that Gaara had had no understanding of the situation the first time. Kankuro and Temari had set her up to this, knowing all the while that Gaara had no interest in her or the prospect of a "kissing lesson". He was a grown man, for Kage's sake! But for whatever unknown reason, tonight she had let her guard down, enticed by his request for "another" lesson. Driven by her own selfishness, curiosity – perhaps even lust – she had agreed to it, and now look what had happened. Her feelings of anger and betrayal slowly disintegrated into feelings of shame and embarrassment. She felt played. Was that what it was? Was Gaara secretly an illustrious playboy out to make toys of the women that crossed his path? He certainly had all the right attributes to do so: his striking, handsome features, the allure of a dark and dangerous past, the intrigue of a stoic but endearing leader… surely, he was in no drought for female affection. Perhaps she was wrong in all of this… a kissing lesson just seemed so childish; she couldn't begin to understand how she had fallen for such a ruse. It was just an excuse, she told herself, to give into her own selfish desires. By doing so, however, she had shamed her position, her village, and herself.

Sakura strode to her bed, whose sheets were still crumpled from her uneasy sleep earlier in the night. Feeling both too warm and chilled at the same time, she uncomfortably slid into the blankets, noticing how they felt scratchier and less luxurious that the fine robe material she had just been wearing.

But… a shy, quiet voice whispered in the back of her mind. What if… it wasn't a ruse?

The kunoichi snorted into the unassuming silence. Now Inner Sakura was just being naïve, a trait that adult Sakura had so fervently tried to eradicate from her teenage self. What? He really DID want a kissing lesson?

Perhaps…

Oh, of course. So he could learn the tools of the trade to impress some OTHER woman?

That was his excuse, after all. That he had interest in another woman, but he felt too inexperienced to pursue the relationship. He was basically unable to have human contact for years… Inner Sakura reminded her. The history surrounding Gaara's demeanor and difficult childhood certainly would affect a person's ability to assimilate into the village culture. He had spent the better part of his life serving as a symbol of fear. Only now, in the last five or so years, he had steadily rebuilt his relationship with his citizens and Sunagakure had flourished under his care.

His private life, however, remained just that… private.

Temari and Kankuro had shared what they knew about the secretive side of Gaara, but even to his siblings he was distant. How could she assume that she would hold any greater gravity than the two closest companions he had?

But… again… what had happened on the roof was undeniably real. And not just the intimate moments. There felt to be real moments of genuine connection… They had shared their thoughts with one another. She had shared… her feelings, though vaguely. But he had listened, calmly and sincerely. They had… laughed together, like real friends, and Sakura had seen a comfortable side of Gaara that she anticipated few others had had the privilege of witnessing: bare chested, gourdless, relaxing under the moonlight with a glass of liquid warmth to stave off the evening chill.

The realest moments, though… were the moments of stolen desire shared between them. As Sakura laid in the darkness, she felt her mind's eye returning to warmth of those moments. Their first kiss, initiated by her, was nice if not a little clumsy. If Gaara truly was some playboy trying to fool her, he certainly did a good job of acting the part of someone who had never kissed before. But their second kiss… the second time is what drove her over the edge. There was a strength to Gaara's movements, a confidence that he hadn't shown the first time—and an eagerness.

What's next? He had asked.

Show me. He had demanded.

The was something dark and needy in his demeanor, though she hadn't been scared by it. His breathing quickened. His voice deepened. Instead of feeling defensive, she was instead enticed, like prey drawn to its predator. He had taken control of their situation, and Sakura had foolishly let it slip out of her grasp, all the way up until she uttered that singular, betraying sound.

She knew now it was the shame and embarrassment she felt that drove her from the roof. In that moment, Gaara had propositioned her as the expert in the situation, and yet she had been the one to lose control. And then Gaara's face afterward had broken her resolve… After she had moaned for him, he pulled back, his face as blank and expressionless as it had ever been.

Did I do something wrong? He asked. Such an innocent question. She was actually shocked by his reaction.

Did I hurt you?

Put simply, she just could not fathom his response. What did he think a literal moan meant? Was he making fun of her? Or did he actually think he had hurt her? Her first reaction was to simply apologize: apologize for her presumptuous agreement to give him a "lesson" in physical intimacy; apologize for her foolish resolution to stay in Suna to appease her own stubborn pride; apologize for… for giving in to her lustful urges in a situation that was meant to be platonic. Who was she fooling? Even if their quiet moments on the roof had been real, even if Gaara's friendship was truly attainable, she had almost certainly ruined it in that audible moment of weakness. She didn't think she would be able to even look Gaara in his dark-lidded eyes again. She would be too embarrassed.

Guiltily, Sakura rolled back over and gazed at the lonely, crumpled image of the Kazekage's robe splayed on the floor. It was the only token she had left of those special shared moments, before she had ruined the illusion. Carefully, as though worried Gaara might burst in and brand her a disgrace for disrespecting his clothing, she slipped out of bed, grabbed the cool, heavy material, and put it on again. It still smelled of Gaara and his clean, sanded-wood scent that reminded her of the warmth of the desert sun. Though she'd only worn it for mere moments, putting it on again felt like a comforting hug. She pulled it close to her body in spite of herself. Eventually, she would have to return it… perhaps slyly drop it into a laundry basket near the washroom at the back of the mansion. She had noticed this room when Temari had snuck her out the back way to go out last weekend.

What does it matter? Sakura mused, her eyes growing heavy. My month is halfway over… once I return to Konoha, this will all be forgotten. I'll be able to go home soon, Suna's medical nin will be perfectly capable to continue their work, and the village is otherwise doing very well for itself. There's no reason I would need to return here any time soon.

And though the words she thought to herself were meant to strengthen her resolve, she suddenly felt even lonelier than before.

Thank you for returning to my story, if you were a previous reader. If you are a new reader, welcome.

I hope you are enjoying it so far,

Olly