The chalet at Mabalingwe was big for just two people.
“I hadn’t met you yet when I confirmed for this weekend,” Khotso explained. “I imagined I’d be inviting a small party of friends.”
“You still could have,” Modi pointed out.
“Ah, but I wanted to be alone with you.”
The way he said it made her skin tingle.
The weekend was everything she had expected, sexy and romantic. Of course they spent a lot of time in the chalet, enjoying each other. Modi kept thinking how lucky she was, to have attracted a man like Khotso, both tender and passionate.
He didn’t shrink back the first time he saw her scar; he laid his hand over it, gently, and left it there a few moments. It was a gesture of acknowledgement and acceptance that brought tears to her eyes.
When they could bear to leave the privacy of the bedroom, they went swimming: in one of the resort’s cold-water pools during the heat of the day, or in the heated pool if it was later. At one end of this pool there was a little grotto, which had been made into a Jacuzzi. It was Modi’s first experience of one; she revelled in the vibration of the water massaging her as she and Khotso sat side-by-side.
Khotso also took her on a couple of game drives, and Modi decided the little klipspringers were her favourite animal.
At night, she sat out on the chalet’s high deck, watching while Khotso braaied their meal. Each night, a porcupine would come bustling along below the deck, and once a pretty bushbuck also appeared.
“How can I bear to go back to everyday life?” Modi sighed happily, gazing up at the Milky Way on their last night, the stars so much clearer out here in the bush.
“It’s what we do in our everyday lives that lets us enjoy places like this,” Khotso said.
He turned to her, sliding his arms round her. Modi’s head fell back as she gazed up into his face, the stars forgotten. Each time he touched her, it felt like the first time. She couldn’t get enough of him.
“Khotso …” His name was a flutter of sound in the still night as she slid her hands up to his strong shoulders.
He bent his head, his mouth pressing on hers as her lips parted to admit him.
“Let’s go inside,” he murmured as they broke off the kiss simply to be able to breathe.
“I was about to say exactly the same thing,” Modi laughed shakily.
In the bedroom, she surrendered to the exquisite pleasure of Khotso’s touch. His fingertips and lips on her body were so skilled, and so giving.
She loved him so much.
Help! The intrusion of such powerful emotion shocked Modi, and she grew still for a moment. She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Khotso; she had been so determined not to.
Oh, but it was sort of OK, wasn’t it? She would find a way to deal with it. The important thing was that Khotso must not fall in love with her. That must never happen.
Tell us what you think: Why doesn’t Modi want Khotso to return her love?