Dangerously His Episode 5
DINNER AND WAR
READ PREVIOUS EPISODE (4) HERE
“Nkosi,” Thandi said, voice sweet but firm, “the ride home I asked you to give Naledi… it’s canceled. But since you’re here, why don’t you stay for dinner?”
He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Dinner, ma’am?”
“Yes,” she smiled, gesturing toward the dining room where the maidens had set a beautiful spread—aromatic dishes, warm bread, and delicate desserts. “It would be rude not to.”
I sat quietly nearby, heart racing, watching Nkosi’s dark eyes flick to mine, curious, teasing, alive.
The dinner was lively, filled with laughter, teasing remarks, and gentle jabs from Andile and Buhle. Nkosi’s charm flowed effortlessly, his laughter low and intoxicating. Each time our eyes met, a spark ignited between us, subtle but undeniable,but I had to hold my ground,
Sitting there, I felt a dangerous thrill, my thoughts betraying me.What could happen tonight?I wondered, the warmth in my chest growing. *One glance, one word from him, and everything might change.
*One Week Later*
My legs were crossed under the table as the wind blew my hair around at buhle and andile patio,my best part in their overly massive mansion. The wind ,sending a slight chill across my bare shoulders. The sun shone down, reflecting off the glass table.
Buhle sat across from me, her skin practically glowing. I guess what they say about that pregnancy glow is real—man, does she have it. I would love to know how she manages it.
"So, how are things with the baby?" I asked.
She gave me a small smile and placed her hand on her stomach.
"Six months today. Can you believe it?"
I chuckled and shook my head. "No. Seems like it was yesterday when I was begging Andile to get you back."
She laughed. "Anyways, he is fine. I have no idea what Andile and I are going to name him yet. We haven't even discussed it."
I nodded. "I’m sure you’ll come up with something."
She gave me an assuring glance and sipped her tea.
"So, what's been going on with you lately? We haven't had a girl-to-girl talk in a while."
I smiled. "Nothing much. Just trying to get my fashion business started."
I shrugged. "I want a full collection before I start showing them off. So far, I only have one dress made."
Buhle focused on me, her eyes intense, and it made me uneasy.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
She chuckled. "There is someone else on your mind, isn’t there?"
Confused, I asked, "No? Why would there be?"
She smiled, teeth showing. "Naledi, you’ve been acting differently ever since Nkosi came to pick you up last weekend. Did you guys, like… kiss or something?"
I made a disgusted sound and gave her a thumbs down. "Absolutely not. That man is the most disgusting—"
She raised her finger to stop me, but I continued. "Horrible, tiny penis, gross—"
Her eyes widened, and she shouted, "Naledi!"
I slammed my hands on my thighs. "Jesus Christ! Can I please—"
Before I could finish, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned slowly to see Nkosi standing there, arms crossed, a small smirk on his face. Shit.
His black hair was wavy, brown eyes piercing, and in that instant, I felt my stomach twist.
His muscles showed through the black dress shirt, buttons opened halfway.
"So you were saying about my penis being small?"
Buhle snorted, quickly covering her mouth to stifle laughter.
I glared and stood, brushing off my lap. "What are you doing here?" I asked, annoyed.
He scoffed. "Not that it’s any of your business, but I had a meeting with your brother."
I looked back at Buhle. "And you didn’t think to tell me he was coming?"
She raised her hands defensively. "I’m sorry. I forgot Andile mentioned it."
I rolled my eyes. "He didn’t come to see me. He came to annoy me, like always."
Our eyes locked—his filled with power, mine with fury.
Our bodies drew closer as words passed between us, and my gaze wandered to his lips—the firm, slightly pink color making me curious.
"And what if I did come to see you? What were you going to do about it, princess?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Don’t lie. We all know you’re a terrible liar."
He chuckled. "Right. And you? We all know you lied about the size of my dick."
My pupils dilated, heart racing, skin heating. I could see Buhle watching us intently.
"I didn’t lie. I told the truth."
He nodded. "Uh-huh. And what if you’re wrong? Maybe mine is huge."
I shook my head. "Why do we always talk about your dick?"
He laughed. "Hate to break it to you, Naledi, but you’re the one bringing it up."
Fuck. He was right.
Get your head out of the gutter, Naledi. "Yeah. I do. To prove a point."
He stepped closer, our breaths mingling.
"And what if I want to prove mine?"
I tilted my head. "And what point are you trying to prove, Nkosi?"
He bit his bottom lip. "That you’re very wrong about mine."
Before I could respond, Buhle stood and threw her hands in the air.
"All right! I’ve had enough of this conversation. Nkosi, say your goodbyes and return upstairs to my husband."
His eyes searched mine one last time. He growled as she stepped back.
"Of course. I’ll leave you two ladies to your conversation while I play cat and mouse with your husband."
He walked away. I rolled my eyes. "Have fun," I said sarcastically.
He stopped mid-step, cheeky smile still on his lips, then slowly turned back toward me, and in that instant, our eyes locked again.
Something unspoken passed between us—something hotter than words. My pulse spiked, my breath hitched, and I felt the unmistakable pull I had been trying to deny all week.
Buhle, oblivious to the silent storm, sipped her tea. "Ok. What the hell was that?"
"Just a typical conversation with my brother’s annoying best friend," I replied.
She shook her head. "Yeah, about his dick, Naledi?!"
I rolled my eyes. "Relax, Buhle. We joke like that all the time."
She scoffed. "So you joke about each other’s private parts but feel no tension?"
I nearly choked on my tea. "Me and Nkosi? Tension? You’re funny."
She crossed her legs. "Yeah, like you didn’t have tension five seconds ago."
I rolled my eyes. "It was just a conversation. Quit freaking out."
She sighed. "I’m only freaking out because you and Nkosi were this close, like lions."
And then, as if daring me to finally admit it, Nkosi appeared at the doorway again, just far enough to tease, close enough to ignite a fire.
He smirked. "Still thinking about me, princess?"
My stomach clenched. I knew one wrong word, one wrong look… and everything could change.
I met his gaze, heart pounding, and whispered under my breath, "Maybe I am."
And just like that, the air between us crackled with tension, desire, and the promise of something neither of us could stop—leaving everything unresolved, hanging, and unbearably, deliciously inevitable.
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