Chapter 2 - The Thing She Wanted

CHAPTER 2: THE THING SHE WANTED

Mpho closed his eyes for one careful second. When he opened them, he was still giving her the chance to change her mind.

"Say it again," he said.

Sibongile's throat worked. She had spent so long choosing the words that kept peace in her house: it is fine; I can manage; do not worry about me. This was not a peaceful sentence. This one was a match.

"I want you."

He kissed her before fear could turn it into something smaller. His mouth was warm and deliberate, his hand firm at the back of her neck, drawing her nearer until the door pressed between her shoulder blades and she could feel every hard line of him through their clothes.

Then he stopped.

"Look at me," Mpho said. "Tell me this is what you want."

She looked at him. At the man who had crossed provinces with chicken, chips and the dangerous habit of paying attention. Her pulse was loud in her ears.

"Yebo baba," she whispered. "This is what I want."

The sound that left him was low enough to travel through her. Mpho lifted her as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the bed. He laid her down carefully, then stood over her for a moment, looking at the old grey T-shirt as if it had personally offended him.

"May I?"

She nodded.

He drew it over her head. The room breathed cool air over her skin. Beneath it, she wore the burgundy bra and panties she had packed by habit and almost left buried in the bottom of her bag. Matching. Pretty. A private promise to herself she had not known how to keep.