Page 34 of BounBound By Scars

He rubbed the back of his neck. “If you leave, I’ll find that hidden bottle under the sink.”

I blinked at him.

He shrugged, unapologetic. “I know myself.”

I rolled my eyes and marched straight to the kitchen. My fingers found the cabinet like they’d done it a hundred times, and sure enough, there it was. The bottle.

“Jesus, Sebastian,” I muttered, grabbing the damn thing. “You know I’ll keep doing this, right?”

“That’s why I keep sneaking them in,” he called from behind me, grinning.

Without hesitation, I popped the cap and poured the contents out.

He groaned as the expensive liquid splashed down the drain. “Thirteen thousand dollars down the fuckin’ drain.”

My eyes shot wide. “You paid what?”

He laughed, moving in behind me, his presence warm and oddly comforting. “Rare batch. Imported. You just murdered art.”

“I would’ve taken it to the lounge bar!” I spun to glare at him. “Sold it. Started a retirement fund.”

He laughed harder now, the sound deep and sincere. Then his palm came up gently, and he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The kiss shouldn’t have made me feel guilty.

But it did.

Because standing in that kitchen, hearing him laugh, feeling the affection in that forehead kiss… I knew.

Even if we kept this going, I would never be able to truly date Sebastian.

Not when my mind was still locked on Kabir. Still running in fucking circles around that man. His pain. His rage. His silence.

I looked up at Seb, offering a small, sincere smile. “Thank you. For earlier.”

He tilted his head.

“With Zarek. You took Kabir’s side,” I clarified.

“Because you were right,” he said, as if it were obvious. Then he gave a small nod and turned toward the hallway. “Sleep. You look like hell.”

“Sure, I do.”

“I meant it lovingly.”

“Mmhmm.”

He walked off, disappearing into his room without another word, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I turned off the kitchen light and padded softly to the guest room, shutting the door behind me.

And I stood there for a while, hand on the knob, forehead pressed to the wood.

Because the man sleeping down the hall was one of the best I knew. Strong. Loyal. Steady.

But he wasn’t the man I wanted.

And I wasn’t the woman he craved.

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