Page 72 of BounBound By Scars

Kabir’s eyes narrowed, rage ebbing away. “I did.”

I shoved him slightly. “You can’t just fucking ask me that!”

“Why? It was a rhetorical question,” he smirked, anger fully forgotten. “Wait… was the answer yes?”

Fully shoving him away from me, I rounded him to escape him. My elbow was suddenly wrapped in his hand, and he turned me to face his stupid, gorgeous, punchable, handsome… shut it!

“Was it?” He asked, his voice soft with awe and hope. He swayed and shuffled on his feet a bit, unable to keep upright.

I stared at him, trying to find a way out of this ridiculous situation. So, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What is cock called in Hindi?”

He blinked. Then blinked again. When his eyes grew distant, I knew—knew—he was actually distracted and trying to translate the damn word.

“I actually don’t know,” he mumbled, seeming adorably defeated.

I nodded. “Think about it. We’ll continue this tomorrow, okay? We do need to talk, remember.”

“Yeah…” he sighed. His eyes glazed, he stepped away from me, letting me take my exit.

I had taken a few steps before his voice had me looking at him over my shoulder.

“Lia…” he blinked rapidly. “Was the answer yes?”

I swallowed hard before forming a response.

This was it, wasn’t it?

Even if he was too drunk to remember, I knew I had to just get the word out. So, I did.

“Yes.”

Kabir

Yes.

She’d saidyes!

“How’d it go last night, Kabz?”

I jumped as Logan’s voice cut through the remnants of my hangover just as I was piling carbs onto my plate. Much-needed carbs. The kind that made you forget you’d made an ass of yourself the night before.

“Kabz?” I blinked at him, unimpressed.

He just grinned, smug as hell. “Zarek’s ‘Zar.’ Dylan’s ‘Dyl.’ So obviously… Kabir is ‘Kabz.’”

I cleared my throat, dragging my feet toward the next tray of food. “You remember that, huh?”

He nudged me with his elbow to keep me moving through the buffet line. “Of course I do. I’ve been brainstorming names for you all night.”

“Okay, no.” I spun to face him, holding up a finger. “Don’t ever call me that again. It sounds like a disease. And we both know my celibate ass isn’t catching crabs anytime soon.”

My eyes widened at a sudden realization. Wasn’t constipation called Kabz in Hindi?

Fuck. I didn’t want to tell him that it was a diseasetwiceover.

Yeah… no.

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