DANGEROUSLY HIS.(EPISODE 3)
Closer Than I Should Be
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The whole ride home was annoying as hell.
Not because Nkosi spoke—he didn’t say a single word. It was worse than that. His silence filled the car like smoke, wrapping around me, suffocating. The closer he sat, the more aware I became of him. His cologne. His body heat. His quiet control.
Every second his arm rested so close to mine, it was like electricity skimming over my skin. My anger should have drowned it out—but instead, it burned hotter.
I had known Nkosi for about four years now. Andile had known him longer, maybe six. But Andile kept him away from me, like he knew exactly what kind of trouble his best friend was. The kind of man who could ruin a girl without even trying.
Nkosi was the real-life bad boy. Dangerous, unpredictable, and yet… everyone whispered about the other side of him. That he had a heart of gold buried beneath the sharp edges.
I never believed that. Not for a second.
And sometimes, I wished Andile had never let him anywhere near me. Because now, our game was simple: he pissed me off, I pissed him off. A cycle we couldn’t escape. A fire neither of us could put out.
By the time we pulled into the long driveway of the Mokoena estate, my chest was tight with tension I couldn’t name. Security guards patrolled the gates, their figures cutting through the glow of the floodlights. Home should’ve felt safe. Instead, it felt like stepping into another kind of trap.
I unbuckled my seatbelt quickly, desperate to escape, but when I glanced at Nkosi, I froze. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his veins bulged. The sight sent an unexpected shiver through me. I hated myself for thinking it—veins always did look sexy on a man.
Just not this man. Not Nkosi Dlamini.
“Thanks,” I muttered, reaching for the door handle. But before I could pull it, a hand closed around my wrist.
Firm. Warm. Inescapable.
“Wait,” he said, voice low but steady.
I stilled, trapped, staring at the place where his skin touched mine. Slowly, almost against my will, my gaze lifted to his eyes.
And that was my mistake.
Because the moment I looked at him, I couldn’t look away. His eyes drew me in like gravity, and I felt myself drowning in them, forgetting every reason I should hate him.
“If you ever need someone to come pick you up,” he said quietly, almost too soft for the Nkosi I knew, “call me.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes to hide the way my stomach flipped. “Don’t go soft on me now, Nkosi.”
His grip tightened, tugging me closer. Suddenly, my body was tilted toward him, our faces only inches apart. His breath brushed over my lips, hot and maddening.
For one reckless heartbeat, I wondered what it would feel like if I leaned forward. If I let his mouth claim mine. If I stopped fighting him and gave in.
But then the thought scared me enough to shove it away.
“I’m serious, Naledi. Call me,” he pressed, his tone sharp this time, commanding.
I swallowed, forcing a smirk to cover the way my lips trembled. “What now, you want a goodbye kiss too?” I teased, booping his nose with my finger just to prove I could still play the game.
His jaw clenched, but he let go, his eyes never breaking from mine. “Just call.”
“Fine,” I muttered, slipping out of his hold and opening the door. The night air hit my skin like a warning.
“Goodnight, Naledi,” he called after me as I walked toward the porch.
I threw a hand up without turning around. “Goodnight.”
The car engine rumbled to life behind me, but before it rolled away, his voice rang out one last time, loud enough for every single guard to hear.
“Nice ass!”
I froze, spinning on my heel, my cheeks flaming as his car disappeared down the drive. My guards shifted awkwardly, some trying to hide their smirks.
Fury clawed up my chest. But beneath it, something worse lingered. A spark I didn’t want. A question I couldn’t silence.
💋 If this is how he treats me when he claims to hate me… what happens the day Nkosi decides he actually wants me?
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