Page 24 of The Cuddle Clause

Roman

The wine bottle was nearly empty. Maggie was flushed and glowing, laughing with her whole body like she didn’t know how to hold anything back. It wasn’t the alcohol. It was something wilder, all loose and warm and golden. And it was killing me.

She tipped her glass back, took another sip, then narrowed those big, mischievous eyes at me. “Truth or dare, Velasquez?”

I smirked, masking the way my heart jumped every time she said my name like that. “Dare.”

She reached into the greasy brown paper bag from the food truck and pulled out one of the peppers we’d both sworn we were too sober to mess with. “Eat this. Whole. No breaks. No water.”

I took it like a challenge, even though I already knew I’d regret it. I bit into the thing like it was a damn apple. It was like swallowing lava, and I choked back a curse while Maggie doubled over laughing. “Oh my god, Roman!”

I grabbed a handful of tortilla chips to save my life. “I’m dying,” I rasped, coughing, eyes watering. “I see the light.”

“You did this to yourself,” she wheezed, tears in her eyes from laughing too hard. “For the record, I’m not giving you mouth-to-mouth.”

“Damn shame,” I croaked.

When I finally stopped seeing stars, we moved on. She took her turn. “Truth,” she said, propping her chin in her hand, like this was nothing serious. Just a game. Just a joke.

But it felt like we were on the precipice of something.

I kept it light. “Worst kiss you’ve ever had?”

She didn’t even blink. “Eric. Easily. He kissed like a dentist.”

I paused, glass halfway to my mouth. “A dentist?”

“All open mouth and clinical detachment. Zero vibe. Just… assessment.”

I choked on a laugh. “What, like he was checking your gums?”

“Honestly? Would’ve felt less sterile if he had been checking my gums. I felt like he was mentally writing a report. Probably deducted points for enthusiasm and lack of tongue alignment.”

I snorted. “Did he at least give you a sticker afterward?”

She lifted her wine glass. “Not even a free toothbrush.”

That got me. I threw my head back and laughed until my stomach ached. I filed it away like the petty bastard I was. Next time I saw Eric, I’d picture him with latex gloves and a laminated score sheet.

Maggie grinned as she topped off our glasses.

It should’ve felt like pure fun. It was fun. But my pulse wouldn’t calm down. Something about the way she looked tonight with a messy ponytail and bare feet curled under her was rewiring something in me.

Earlier, on that dance floor, I hadn’t been pretending. Not when I kissed her. Not when I’d said she was mine.

God, I was fucked.

She twirled her finger. “My turn. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Take off your shirt.”

I reached behind my head and yanked it off, folding it and placing it on the sofa. “You’re not even being subtle anymore.”

“I don’t need to be,” she said, but her voice was rougher now. Her eyes lingered on my bare chest. I pretended not to notice how her throat moved when she swallowed.

I leaned back, trying not to let her see how uneven my breathing was. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

I tapped my fingers on my knee, then dared myself to go vulnerable. “What’s something intimate you’ve never told anyone?”

She hesitated. “I changed who I was so much during my relationship with Eric that I forgot who the real me was.”

“I know who you are.” I stared at the bottle for a second. “Sometimes, I think I’d rather stay in wolf form. It’s quieter there. Simpler. I don’t have to pretend to be good at being human.”

She didn’t laugh at me or tease me. Her eyes softened, all the humor sliding away, replaced by something so warm it made my throat tight. “You don’t have to pretend around me.”

The silence stretched on, but it was gentle instead of awkward. It made me feel seen.

I wanted to stay there, suspended in that moment where it felt like maybe she meant it. Her knee brushed mine. She didn’t pull back. My brain, my instincts, my every cell screamed at me to keep it light. Joke it off. Look away.

Instead, I leaned forward, voice low. “Truth or dare?”

She raised her brows, cautious now. “Dare.”

I kept my eyes on her. “Let me kiss you like I mean it.”

She slowly lowered her wine glass. “I thought we were pretending.”

“Then pretend,” I said. My voice came out hoarse. “Just for a minute.”

Her gaze flicked to my mouth.

Her phone buzzed. Our heads whipped toward the phone like we’d been caught making out behind the bleachers during gym class.

Maggie let out a shaky breath and practically leapt to her feet. “I—uh—I need to check that.”

She disappeared into the hallway, leaving me there with my heart still thundering. I dragged a hand down my face. This wasn’t a game anymore. I was in it. All the way under. I didn’t think I could crawl back out.

She was everything I wasn’t supposed to want.

I was falling for her. Hard.

And God help me, I didn’t want to stop.

Maggie came back and put her phone down, clearing her throat. The sound was quiet, almost delicate, but it cut through the room like a blade. She walked to the other side of the room, creating an entire zip code of space between us.

I sat there, still half-leaning forward, the dare hanging in the air between us like a question we both heard but didn’t want to answer. Her moving away wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud. But I felt it all the same. Like a door gently closing with the lock sliding into place.

Okay. That was a no. Not now. Maybe not ever. I leaned back on my palms and tried to act like it didn’t sting.

She turned, crossed her arms. “Truth or dare?”

I gave her a look. “Still going?”

She raised her brows. She wanted to move past the almost-kiss. Wanted something lighter. Safer. Fine. I could play that game too.

“Dare,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

She gave me a slow, dangerous smile. “I dare you to keep your shirt off and knock on Doris’s door. Ask her if she’ll check your back for ticks. Convince her it’s urgent.”

My jaw dropped. “You want me to go to Doris’s? Shirtless? At midnight? About ticks?”

Maggie nodded smugly. “Yep.”

I squinted at her. Oh, she was good. I could practically feel the wall she was rebuilding. And this dare? This was her pouring cement between the cracks.

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re sending a nearly-nude man to harass an old woman about made-up medical concerns?”

Maggie shrugged. “I need to make sure you’re not secretly a coward.”

“Oh, I’m a lot of things, Mags. But a coward isn’t one of them.”

I started toward the door.

“I’m watching.” She followed me to the hall but ducked just around the corner, her head barely visible.

“Creep,” I muttered.

“I have popcorn in spirit.”

I knocked twice on Doris’s door, loud enough to wake a cryptid. Then I stood there, shirtless, barefoot, and completely regretting my life choices. A few seconds later, the door creaked open. Doris stared at me like she was debating whether to swat me with a broom or a rosary.

“Roman,” she said slowly, eyes narrowing behind her bifocals. “Why are you shirtless?”

I gave her my best earnest face. “Doris, I need your help. I just got back from a nature hike. I think I may have been exposed to a… a tick situation.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“Could you check my back?” I turned slightly. “I’d ask Maggie, but she’s squeamish.”

From around the corner, Maggie let out a very un-squeamish snort.

Doris crossed her arms. “Are you on drugs?”

“No! I’m high on life, Doris. Life and public health awareness.”

That’s when I lost it. I tried so hard to keep it together, but I couldn’t quite hold in a snort of laughter.

Doris squinted at me and pointed a sharp, wrinkled finger. “Ticks are no laughing matter, young man. You think this is a joke?”

“I—uh—no, ma’am,” I managed, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek.

“You better turn around. They like to hide in crevices.” She took a step forward. “And don’t you go getting shy on me. You think Lyme disease is sexy? ’Cause it’s not.”

That broke me. The laugh exploded out before I could stop it. Full-body, gasping, can’t-breathe laughter. My knees buckled under the effort of staying upright.

Maggie was losing it around the corner, fully bent over, trying to keep it together but absolutely failing. She had her arm over her mouth to muffle her laughter, but I could still hear it. It was the only thing that kept me from collapsing.

I glanced over my shoulder. Doris squinted harder, leaning slightly to the side to see around the corner. “I know you’re over there,” she barked. “You think you’re hiding? I can hear you cackling like a damn hyena.”

Maggie peeked out, red-faced, still grinning like a kid who got caught sneaking cookies from a locked jar.

“Oh no, no,” Doris said, pointing at her like she was directing traffic. “You better get over here and help this poor man. If he’s got ticks, they’re your problem too. They could’ve hitched a ride in during one of your little cuddle fests or whatever it is you two are doing.”

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “Cuddle—? Doris, I—”

“Don’t ‘Doris’ me, boy,” she snapped. “And you”—she jabbed a finger toward Maggie, who was now crying with laughter—“stop hiding and check your man’s crevices. Don’t act like you haven’t seen ’em.”

Maggie lost it again, laughing so hard she had to prop herself up on the wall.

“I—I can’t,” she gasped.

“You can, and you will,” Doris declared. “Ticks like warm, damp places. I’m not explaining that twice.”

That did it. I had to hold the door frame to stay upright, wheezing out, “We’re going, we’re leaving, we’re done, I swear.”

Doris exhaled slowly. “Lord help me. The youth are helpless.”

She gave me a look that could curdle milk, then turned and shut her door with the weary grace of a woman who had survived multiple wars, three husbands, and now us.

I turned back to Maggie, who was still leaning against the wall and laughing.

God, she was gorgeous when she laughed. Radiant. There was something in the way she relaxed, the way her whole body gave in to joy. She didn’t do it often, but when she did, it made my chest ache.

I wished, for one split second, that we could follow Doris’s advice. Go back to the apartment. Keep laughing. Maybe push past that almost-kiss from earlier and see what happened when it wasn’t part of a game. When it was just us.

But I knew better.

She wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure I was either.

So, when we were back in the apartment, I pulled my shirt on. “Consider your dare completed.”

She shook her head. “You’re absolutely insane.”

“And yet, here you are, following me around like a judgmental ghost.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know,” she said, plopping back onto the couch, “for a guy who pretends to be bad at people, you’re dangerously good at making me laugh.”

“Only for the cause,” I said. “Tick awareness is serious business.”

She laughed again and leaned her head back on the cushion. I sat next to her, my knee bumping hers. She didn’t pull away.

And even though I knew we’d dodged something back there—something real—I couldn’t help but think about how close we’d come to sharing a real kiss. Her eyes had flicked to my mouth like she’d wanted it.

The closeness of the apartment pressed in all around us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Her smile softened but didn’t disappear completely. It hovered at the corners of lips, like it wasn’t sure what came next. She bit her bottom lip, and it was like a punch to my gut.

That tiny, impulsive motion wrecked me. Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was because we’d almost kissed for real earlier, and it had been haunting me ever since.

Or maybe it was the fact that I’d spent the entire night listening to her laugh and thought: I could get used to this.

I could live here, in this exact moment, and be stupidly happy.

I leaned into her space, and her back straightened as I closed the distance. I slid my hand around her waist and drew her toward me.

She let it happen. Her eyes didn’t widen in alarm. She didn’t hesitate. If anything, she leaned in. I braced my other hand against the back of the sofa, pinning her in. Not trapping, not forcing—just claiming a space that felt like ours.

Her breath hitched, and the sound traveled all the way through me. Then her chin tipped up, just slightly, like she was daring me.

I took the dare.

Our mouths crashed together. There was no tentative start. No gentle lead-in. It was heat and friction and too much want pressed into too little space.

She tasted like wine and wildflowers and everything I couldn’t let myself need. Her hands were in my hair, fisting at the back of my neck, and mine were everywhere at once—her waist, her hip, her jaw. I wanted to touch all of her, memorize her shape, burn her into my skin.

She let out a sound that was half sigh, half moan, and I lost it.

The kiss was messy and uncoordinated and real. Her body arched into mine, her fingers tugging my shirt like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to pull me closer or push me away. Either way, I was already gone.

Time blurred. It could’ve been seconds or minutes. Eventually, we both pulled apart, gasping for air like we’d run a marathon.

I stepped back first. The second I did, I regretted it. Not the kiss, but the confusion in her eyes. The heat on her cheeks. The way her hand lingered at her lips like she was trying to make sense of what just happened.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Panic clawed up my spine. I had just crossed a line, one we couldn’t uncross.

“Uhm. Goodnight, then,” I muttered, like a complete coward. I walked to my room without looking back, and shut the door behind me.

I leaned against it, chest heaving, heart a riot in my ribs.

What the hell just happened?