She heard the tidal sound of his breath, and imagined she could hear the steady, mournful beat of his heart. Was he as aware of her? She wondered. She didn't say a thing, and in that moment she wondered what good language was anyway, when it couldn't possibly convey the depth of emotions she was feeling now. Her hands went to his face, and she closed her eyes when her palms closed over his jaw. She jumped when his hands shot up to cover hers, pressing them hard against his face.
"Sakura," he groaned, reaching for her waist, nearly spanning it with his hands, so that the length of his body brushed against her. He rested his chin against her forehead briefly, breathing in the clean fragrance of her hair, then he murmured against her brow, "I think I've earned my freedom."
No. She raised her eyes to his and shook her head once.
"Sakura." He drew her name out into a plea, but she ignored it, reaching up to thread her fingers into his hair, watching the strands flutter and part, and then close around her hands in a silken caress. He sighed; if she kept this up, his defeat looked promising because she was slowly peeling away his layer of defence.
Green fire flickered in her eyes as she searched his, her brows tipped in an expression of so many feelings they were beyond isolation and identification.
Sakura felt the strong hands at her waist tremble, as if they were fighting to jerk her against him and push her away all at the same time. She saw the eminent line of his jaw clenched with exertion, the bitter strain in his eyes, the almost slight flare of his nostrils as his head lowered to hers, then lifted abruptly away, then lowered helplessly again. She could feel his breath breaking across her nose and cheeks in soft, fragrant puff of air. Suddenly her thighs were against his, denim pressing denim, and then his hands moved with conviction on her waist, pulling her slowly against him until she felt the swollen press of her breast joining the wall of his chest with a sweet shattering pleasure and pain. She pulled helplessly for breath through her open mouth as her eyes fell closed, shuddering at the steaming liquid tide rising within her and still he denied them both. His mouth hovered just over hers, savouring the anticipation of the inevitable, denying this last, binding, remarkable contact while his eyes searched hers.
"I can't do this," he whispered suddenly, his mouth so close that she felt his lips brush against hers when he spoke.
"What happens between us has nothing to do with anything else," she argued but he held her shoulders, holding her slightly away.
"Don't..." he warned, letting his hands slide down along her body until they dropped to his side. He pressed them stiffly against his sides; his face was expressionless, as if he couldn't trust himself to allow a single muscle in his body freedom to act. "And put your shirt back on," he ordered, shifting his gaze from her to nothing in particular.
Sakura felt the dryness of eyes opened too wide for too long, and blinked. She studied his face; his eyes were as eloquent as his expression was blank. They burned with the intensity of desperate longing; the pain of self-denial.
"What's the matter? Don't you want me too?" she giggled suddenly, not fully comprehending the hazards of their current situation.
He frowned at her, "You're drunk, you don't know what you want."
"There's where you're wrong," she pushed herself up against him, poking his chest. Her eyes darkened, "I do know what I want. I want you." She thought she saw him flinched.
"Oh come on, stop it," he pushed her away, "Go to bed."
"I will... if you come with me," she giggled moving across the room to settle in the leather sofa. She poured herself a glass of vodka and finished the glass in one gulp. Her white eyed companion scowled at her. "Would you like a glass?" she smirked pouring out another glass. And just as she had anticipated, he came to her, taking the glass from her hand.
This woman was crazy, he thought, obviously she didn't know her limits. He swore that her unnatural hair colour had to account for her unusual demeanour.
"I'm convinced that you're brain dead," he told her setting the glass on the coffee table beside the sofa. "You don't follow instructions well do you?"
She shook her head and beamed up at him with a mischievous glint in her verdant eyes. He almost squirmed at the way she was looking at him, like she'd devour him if she ever got the chance. He didn't like that look, it was terrifying, it was misleading yet tempting... it was lust!
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked with a quizzical expression on her face.
"Like I'm crazy or something," she folded her arms and frowned at him.
"You're not?" he asked seriously, though the hint of humour in his tone was obvious. His mouth twisted in a lazy smile, and to Sakura's amusement he looked her thoroughly up and down. "It's hard to believe that you're not. When the things you do and say keep convincing me otherwise."
She laughed and patted a seat beside her, indicating that he was to come sit beside her but he declined, "You act as if I have some sort of contagious disease of something."
Technically you do, it called lust. And if you keep making such strong advances on him, chances are he'll contract it too. And then... you're both screwed Sakuraliterally, and there's only one antidote for lust! So Beware!
"Can you pass me my shirt?" Sakura asked suddenly. He had the strangest feeling that she was up to something, but he didn't make the slightest indication, instead, he walked over to where Sakura's blouse laid on the floor, picked it up, unconsciously clutching it to his chest. It reeked with the smell of tequila, brandy, whiskey, vodka and who knows what else! But there was also a faint smell of cherry blossom and his olfactory nerves seem to have danced with delight when the scent registered. Maybe he was really the crazy one he thought, what the hell was he doing sniffing the woman's damn clothes!
"Here,' he handed her the shirt and twitched when she grinned up at him. "Fun's over"
It all happened within the space of a heart beat that he couldn't quite put a finger on how he got in the sofa, or how she got on top of him, straddling his legs between hers.
"On the contrary..." she whispered, tickling his skin with her breath. "The fun has just begun," she giggled, watching him struggle beneath her. His white eyes reflecting his utter bewilderment and trepidation...
Her words stumbled into silence. Pale white eyes, silky brown hair and flawless skin stood in her doorway, filling it with his presence, she had to admit, that this man was oddly handsome in his dark blue shirt that fitted his leanly muscled body with cushion-made precision. Beneath it, she could see a soft blue coloured shirt and a striped silk tie. He looked sophisticated and ready to get down to business. Unfortunately the only thing that could possibly tie this man to the very one of her pursuit where those unique pair of eyes... surely those extraordinary eyes must only be indigenous to a certain family, group of people or race.
She silently wondered if there was some sort of connection between him and this man. Sakura would never admit the amount of disappointment that washed over her when she tore her gaze away from those captivating eyes and realized that they didn't belong to her mysterious lover. The jolt in her heart beat when she had first seen his eyes caused quite an up rush in her blood that she thought that maybe she'd pass out from its intensity; she thought that maybe the heavens had finally decided to answer her prayers. But, maybe they were still punishing her for being the bad little girl that she had been four months ago. Because whoever this man was, he most definitely wasn't the one she was looking for. He was too old, too arrogant looking and too damn intimidating. But then again, she was drunk when she met her child's father, so there might be the slightest chance that she had been mistaken all along; everything looked different when you were under the influence of alcohol.
"Is there something wrong?" the tall towering man asked forcing Sakura out of her trance-like state, but she still couldn't find words to speak. He ran his hands through his hair, and stared hard at Sakura. "When the hospital said you had a condition, I didn't think they meant you were dumb," he said looking over her shoulders. He reached past her and slammed the apartment door shut.
Sakura's hand trembled as she drew her robe more closely around her. "Yes, I'm Sakura Haruno," she managed to say. "Is there a problem?" she asked.
"Not unless that child you're carrying belongs to my nephew," he smirked and pointed at her stomach. "That damn boy has been getting on my nerves lately." Sakura flushed out of confusion and at the slight possibility but the man laughed at her, reassuring her that he was merely joking. "What are the odds of that happening huh?" he laughed then introduced himself as Hiashi Hyuuga, her new supervisor.
"I don't mean to sound rude, I applied for a nursing position," she said tightly. "And if my memory serves me right, I don't recall ever putting in my resume or application letter that I was looking for a secretarial position." Hiashi opened his mouth as if to interject but Sakura continued, "Being pregnant doesn't make someone a handicap, I'm perfectly capable of performing my job efficiently," she said a bit loudly, clenching her fist at her sides, Hiashi took noticed to the small gesture and smirked.
He chuckled to himself, "Nobody said that you couldn't."
"Because I have the power to do so," he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, "...and frankly Sakura, I think it would be for the best if the patients are left to be dealt with by nurses who can hold a firm grip on their emotions." Sakura flinched at this, "If you lose your temper this easily just by expressing your displeasure with my decision I can only assume what the patients might go through with you, especially when you start going through those ridiculous mood swings."
She growled inwardly, "Have you got something against pregnant women working at the hospital Mr. Hyuuga?"
Hiashi narrowed his eyes at her, and growled.
She folded her arms across her chest and frowned at him, "Why are you here?"
"Ahh, I was getting to that..." he said, and then hesitated, "I have a special task for you."
"My daughter is considering taking a nursing course and I'd like for her to get some experience before she takes on college," he said looking down at his feet.
What the fuck has that got to do with me, she wanted to ask. But her manners got the better of her, "Are you talking about tutoring or something...?"
"Not exactly," he smirked. "She'll be volunteering at the hospital for two weeks; by the end of that time I'd like her to have a completely different view on the medical field. I want you to change her mind."
Sakura understood what he was asking of her and she frowned. Five minutes in his presence and he had already proven how much of an asshole he could be. Something gave her the feeling he was not going to want to keep her around too long when taken into consideration her being pregnant and his obvious dislike for her species.
"I want the best for my children Sakura and I don't think Hinata would make a good nurse," he stated, sounding every bit as arrogant as he appeared. He seemed like a very proud manso proud that it made him look selfish. There was, after all nothing wrong with wanting the best for your children but to manipulate them in such a way was not only wrong, it's socially barbaric!
"Why don't you think your daughter would not make a good nurse?" she enquired.
"No offence to your profession, but I do not want my either of my daughters or my nephew cleaning bed pans for a living."
It was too big a blow to ignore. Suppressing the urge to allow her sharp tongue to defend herself resulted in an internal battle. Her pink eyebrow twitched uncontrollably, her jaws and fist clenched, there was only one thing stopping her from pummelling that uptight asshole who calls himself her supervisor. And that was the mere fact that she'd probably be jobless if she gave in to her deadly desires. "I can assure you that bed pan cleaning has its advantages. It's what pays the rent and keeps me alive," she bristled.
"I suppose people do get a kick out of being servants, it gives them some sort of purpose... But I will not have it in my household." The older man completely disregarded Sakura's feeble attempt at defending her profession and continued with his bashing, saying that nursing was slavery, a task for desperate people. He completely turned the whole idea of nursing into something far less than what it really was, making it seem degrading and hateful.
"Your job is to ensure that Hinata has the worst possible experience at the hospital," he informed her.
"How exactly will I go about doing that?" she asked getting more disinterested as the seconds rolled by. At first the idea of supervising another had seemed exciting, but given the motive behind this scandalous task, Sakura was tempted to decline. Still the desire to exercise some sort of authority at the hospital was appealing.
"By scaring her out of medical school and into law school," he smirked at her. "Besides, you'll need the extra cash."
Precisely the moment he made the remark she felt the crazy urge to declare him wrong. She was not some charity case! Sure she wasn't rich, but she sure as hell wasn't broke either. "I'm no charity case, Mr. Hyuuga," she grated, finally allowing all the disappointment and frustration to surface.
"I didn't say you were," he said quickly.
"You implied it," she snarled. "I'm going to ask you to leave," she walked hastily towards the door and flung it open. Gesturing for him to leave; her snarls indicated that he was no longer welcomed in her home. Pass the pregnancy hormones and all, she was genuinely pissed. He and his perfect daughter could kiss her sorry pregnant ass and go home riding on their frigging high horse. She wanted no part in his scheme. Who does he think he is? Coming into her home; insulting her profession and implying that she was poor and needy. He just lost the non-existent respect that she had for him. She'd only just met the man and she already couldn't stand him. He seemed prejudice, egocentric and damn inconsiderate.
"Sakura?" she heard her name from behind her. What the hell was Naruto doing here now? Especially at a time like this where she felt like attempting a homicide.
"Not now Naruto," she said fiercely; turning around to snarl at her unwanted guest. But instead of blue eyes Sakura found herself coming face to face with yet another pair of those ashen orbs. Her stomach churned, her head pounded, there was no mistaking now... Was she being delirious again? That scent... those eyes... that hair... that mouth... that taste...wait... what taste? Lemonade and passion! Her heart missed a few beats; her breath caught in her throat as she stood. Dumb folded. The last conscious thought that ran through her mind was; is it really him...?
"Sakura, this is outrageous, get off me!"
Ignoring his shrieks she continued her onslaught, keeping her eyes fixed on his, relishing the look of utter defeat that lurked in them. She leaned down on him, lowering her mouth to his. He shifted his head but she caught him anyways.
"Don't..." he uttered, it was a plea for survival, pure and simple.
She lifted her head, her extraordinary eyes glittering in a taut, sexually aroused face. "I don't know..." she twined a strand of his hair around her fingers. "I feel obligated to teach you a lesson."
"Like rape?" he demanded furiously, superbly lithe from his workouts but helpless as a baby beneath her and her inhuman strength. He seriously denied the possibility that this child would be capable of such things but who knows...
A smile flashed across her face. "Has it ever been done before?"
He stared up at her fierily, colour flaring beneath his beautiful skin. "What do you want from me?" he asked with a failed attempt to sound calm. You might want to rephrase that question. He felt her steady his head with her hand, and then she kissed him. Her mouth opened over his and his mind seemed to have exploded into a million dazzling pieces. Her free hand roamed, sliding over his shirt, down to the taut denim covering his hip.
"Don't you already know?" she asked, biting on his earlobe. He groaned and her eyes widen when she felt something poke her against one of her thighs. Biting her lips she wondered if she had gone too far, but the raging, rising heat within her spoke for itself. She didn't want to admit it but she had been aroused long before him, that heat in her lower body wasn't as blatant an advertisement as a man's body, but it had to be as influencing. "See..." she continued, "Like that, that's what I want from you." Her voice was thick, her words ragged. "And you want the same thing," she stifled a giggle.
He was breathing hard and trying not to. But even as he responded to her, she infuriated him. After all she was drunk! So smugly confident and so femininely sure of herself. Too many conflicting emotions resulted in anger, "Take your hands off me!" he demanded.
"Oh stop being such a prissy pants," she scowled softly, "You know you want to..." she whispered tauntingly.
"Not unless hell freezes over," he hissed.
"That wasn't a question sweetie," she told him sweetly. When she saw the level of discomfort on his face she burst out into laughter.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked struggling to get up.
"Because..." she kissed the tip of his nose and he grimaced, "I think I'm in love," she said dreamily, and he almost laughed at her, but that sincere and celestial look in her eyes told him that maybe there was a possibility that she was being dead serious. Who was he kidding, they had only just met, and only idiots believed in love at first sight. And then of course she was drunk, poor girl wasn't even able to distinguish between her right hand from her left. Yet she was here professing love to a stranger whom she had only just met.
The alcohol wasn't only messing with her head; it was screwing with her hormones as well. And that was where the scare really surfaced. She didn't look capable of such thing but he knew if she tried she might succeed. She gave him a nasty little grin, one that hinted very salacious desires. He squirmed beneath her but she didn't bulge one bit. Suddenly he felt powerless; both from his struggling and his unexplainable desire.
His pupils enlarged and his breath stopped in his throat, while with a hand in his hair, Sakura bent forward. Her mouth brushed his, "You know what?" she asked. "I think you're in love with me too."
This time he did laugh, "I think... you've had way too much to drink."
She giggled reaching out to him, and the emotion in her eyes pushed him right up to the top and over the edges. Her mouth feathered against his again. "Don't kid yourself, we both knew it the first time we laid eyes on each other," her voice was a low persuasive purr and her hands moved beneath his hair to the back of his neck, where his head was prompt on the arms of the sofa.
His senses were reeling, blurring issues, and he lost all his train of thought. The realization scared him that he wanted to. That he wanted her. "Sakura..." he said breathily, and heard the invitation in his own voice. It wasn't right, he didn't mean it. But nevertheless when their mouths met, his mouth was hungry, but as he presumed, so was hers. The kiss wasn't sweet. It was lustful, inflaming and erotic. It wasn't long before he felt himself slowly growing light headed from her drunken kisses. And oddly enough, everything after that was a blur in his mind. You know what they say, both heads can't work at the same time, it's just one of the many defects of being male.