Page 105 of The Cuddle Clause

The music shifted into something slower, something elegant, and before I could make a joke about how absurd it all was, Roman was pulling me into the center of the dance floor.

He moved with a quiet confidence that made it easy to follow him. One hand pressed against the small of my back, the other held mine loosely, fingers brushing along my knuckles. Somehow, I didn’t feel like a fraud. I didn’t feel like a woman lying her way through the celebration.

I felt wanted.

We twirled once, his hand guiding me effortlessly through the motion, and I laughed—actually laughed. The sound slipped out before I could stop it.

Roman’s smile cracked open wider at that. Real. Unfiltered. It didn’t look practiced.

“You’re good at this,” I said as we turned again, my heels barely skimming the polished floor.

“I’m good at lots of things.”

“Oh my god,” I muttered, biting back a grin. “Why are you like this?”

“Because if I don’t keep talking, I might actually feel everything I’m trying not to.”

My chest went tight. Not in the dramatic, soap opera way. Just full and swollen with a hundred things I hadn’t let myself say.

I should’ve known better than to come here with him, even though it was a requirement fornewly matedcouples. Everything about it was designed to make you believe in forever. The music. The slow, dreamy rotations of bodies around us.

Roman’s gaze dropped to my lips when I tilted my head back, then flicked up to meet my eyes like he hadn’t meant to.

It was too much.Hewas too much.

And I wanted the moment to last forever.

We kept dancing. I didn’t know how many songs passed. Two? Three? I didn’t care. My body fit against his like we’d been carved from the same piece of marble. The scent of him—warm cedar and citrus and something deep that only belonged to Roman—wrapped around me like a tether I didn’t want to escape.

His hand drifted slightly, fingers brushing under the curve of my spine. I looked up.

His expression was unreadable. Tense around the edges. But his thumb traced slow, soothing circles against my back, like he couldn’t help himself.

And I knew, deep in my gut, that when this was over, when the performance was finished, I wouldn’t walk away unchanged. He wasn’t just my fake boyfriend anymore. He wasn’t even just my friend. He was a person who made me feel known in ways I’d never asked for. Never expected. And maybe didn’t deserve.

But he didn’t want me. Not really.

He wanted freedom. Space. He wanted whatever version of his life didn’t involve the pressure of Lucien’s leash orceremonial dress codes or bond ceremonies that had him biting fake capsules instead of skin.

And I… I wanted someone to choose me.

Not for convenience. Not because I was there. Not because I made a good enough roommate and played my part well enough to fool a pack full of ancient shifters.

I wanted someone to look at me the way Roman was looking at me right now and mean it. But once he found the courage to finally talk to Lucien, to unravel this mess we made, he’d be free.

And I’d have to move out, because there was no way I could share a space with him. Not after the way his hand slid across the bare skin of my back. Not after the look in his eyes when I laughed during our dance. Not after the quiet nights and the fake claiming and the way he’d stood in front of an entire mansion and said I was his.

Even though I’d known it wasn’t real, it hadfeltreal. That was the problem. I looked away, trying to breathe around the knot building in my throat. Roman’s grip tightened ever so slightly.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Where’d you go?”

I shook my head. “Nowhere. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“How I ended up at a werewolf gala with you. In a wedding dress you picked out. Wearing makeup you applied. With a fake bite on my neck and a pack full of people who think we’re in love.”

“I didn’t think you’d say yes, you know. Back when this whole thing started.”