Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Don’T Move

CHAPTER 2: DON’T MOVE

His hand travelled beneath my vest with an awful patience. First the curve of my waist. Then the underside of my breast, his thumb stopping just short of my nipple until I was biting the inside of my cheek to keep still.

"Siyabonga," I breathed.

"Quiet," he said against my hair.

I should have moved away. I should have remembered Naledi’s face when he chose the other side of the bed. Instead, I lay there while his hand slid lower, over the soft skin of my stomach and under the waistband of my shorts.

When his fingers found the damp heat between my thighs, my body betrayed me with a small jerk.

"You’re a restless sleeper, Siyabonga," Naledi mumbled.

The room seemed to stop.

His hand stayed where it was. I could feel two fingers pressed between my folds, his palm hot against me, as if he had decided that being caught was simply another thing to survive.

"You keep moving," I said, forcing the words past the ache in my throat.

"Sorry," he murmured. "One last adjustment."

Then his fingers moved inside me.

I caught a breath against my teeth. He worked slowly, curling his fingers in the exact way that made my hips chase his hand. I could smell him now: clean soap, the faint spice of his cologne, the heat of skin trapped beneath the duvet. Every part of me wanted more. Every part of me was terrified Naledi would hear it.

He shifted behind me. The bed gave a soft complaint.

"Face me," he whispered.