Chapter 11: Sailing

(Note: There is an extended chapter rated M under "The Shearing Cross-Expounded", if you prefer to read that version instead.)

The cruiser was sailing peacefully towards Manila as the sun set over the calm ocean. Aaron and Marta sequestered themselves in their cabin, away from curious eyes. They had finished a generous dinner brought by their steward as they reviewed their strategy for the next day.

"How can you still be eating?" Marta groaned as she flopped on the bunk that passed for a small bed. While on the fishing crawler, she starved, but now felt uncomfortably stuffed. She would have a hard enough time sleeping tonight with tomorrow's mission looming. The second dessert wouldn't help with the inevitable tossing and turning.

"Gotta replenish the reserves," Aaron replied, grabbing another dinner roll. He watched as Marta sighed and made herself get up to hang her blazer in the wardrobe and kick off her sandals wearily. She caught his quizzical look.

"This is all linen and silk," she explained. "I can't lay down for 5 minutes dressed like this if I'm to play the part tomorrow." Marta grabbed his black shirt from their backpack and looked back at him with an elegantly arched brow, her shoulders pulled back and chin lifted in a regal posture. In a dignified tone, she added "It wouldn't do," with a dismissive shake of her head. She gave him a wry smile as she stepped into the bathroom.

For a moment, Aaron sat struck by her utterly convincing transformation for just one line of a joke. He didn't like the ease in which she fell into the role but was glad for her skill. It reminded him of the value in their partnership. They each brought their own insight, talent, perspective, and experience to contribute. They made a good team. He was sure they could put up a good fight together-they'd need to.

The pit in his stomach where, as a soldier, he shoved down and contained his emotions felt heavy. The familiar weight of an impending battle brought a restlessness. Fortunately, the sky had darkened and the ship was quiet. The track on deck would be vacant enough for a jog to focus his mind and hone his body for the mission.

Aaron had changed into his shorts and peeled off his shirt. He was lacing up his running shoes when Marta came out in just his black shirt, pulling pins out of her hair. The movement stretched the fabric across her chest, highlighting her shape. She glanced to him, as she shook out her chestnut locks, with a languid smile. Aaron felt a growing twist low in his abdomen, this one definitely not from the prospect of tomorrow's challenges. Completely unaware of what she was doing to him, Marta had turned and was hanging up the rest of her expensive clothes. The hem of the t-shirt rose high up the back of her legs as she reached for the hook. Time to go.

Aaron stood up abruptly to leave before it became impossible to force himself out. He took a step towards the door, but in the cramped quarters she partially blocked his way out. He placed his hands on her hips to guide her to her right as he maneuvered around her. She turned to face him and ask where he was going, but the question caught in her throat at seeing the heat in Aaron's pale blue eyes. Marta felt her body reacting immediately under his penetrating gaze and their close proximity. Her hands rested against his chest lightly and she could feel his tension as she let her fingers tangle in the sparse patch of hair on his hard, muscled torso.

Aaron was frozen in place, fighting his lust, knowing tonight was not the right time for this. There was too much he needed to prepare for Manila, too many scenarios he had to run through. His mind had to work out all contingencies.

Marta could plainly see his struggle and took pity on him, resisting the urge to test his resolve. So she tempered a seductive smile and wrapped her arms around his neck pulling herself up to place a quick peck on his cheek and released him.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, moving to take a step back, but he pulled her in tight against himself, not yet ready to let her go.

"Just one kiss," he managed to say, allowing himself one small indulgence.

With a soft smile and melting green eyes, Marta's arms came up over his shoulders again and she rose to meet his lips. Unable to resist, Aaron's hands slipped around her hips and under the lifted hemline. Of his black shirt, he noted to himself, with pleasure. There was something about her wearing his shirt that got to him. Especially when she wore it like this, he thought, as his hands gripped her hips and crushed her to him even closer. It felt good to grab her like this-possessively. I should probably feel bad for that. But he didn't. He had yearned to do exactly this, for a very long time.

Marta's lips parted in a quiet sound of surprise at his unexpected boldness. Aaron took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue searching out hers. He leaned into her, his mouth and tongue aggressive, bending her backwards so her chest would press against his. One hand released the grasp on her hip to hold the back of her head, keeping her in the kiss. The other hand slid around to her behind. He broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers as he caught his breath and battled for self-restraint. His voice was thick with desire as he told her, "Now I really have to get out of here. I was heading out for a run. I have to focus on getting us through the next two days."

Marta squirmed to get out of his arms, pushing against his chest while craning her head away from him. "I wasn't stopping you. I didn't do anything at all," she said defensively. "You're the one who grabbed me."

"I know," he admitted with a rakish grin. He planted a quick kiss on her lips then squeezed her affectionately before finally letting her escape.

Alluding to her past warnings, Marta pointed her finger accusingly at him saying, "This doesn't count against me; slowing you down, being a hinderance, a distraction. This was all you."

"Oh, I think it does count. It was definitely you who distracted me," he disagreed, a suggestive smirk curling his lip.

Marta stood with her hands on her hips and frowned at Aaron, trying not to smile. The effect of her standing before him mitigated any look to convince him otherwise. He couldn't help but notice her breasts straining against the fabric of his black shirt. Time to go. Again.

"I think you were right before," Aaron said, his voice like gravel. He leaned down for one last kiss before he left. "You will be the death of me."

Marta narrowed her eyes at him but allowed his departing kiss. They shared a brief, knowing smile that hinted at things to come.