Page 50 of The Cuddle Clause

Maggie

The apartment was quietly comfortable. Nothing was expected, no one was trying to fill the silence. Roman had made tea. I hadn’t even asked. He just handed me the mug like he knew I’d been craving something warm and grounding.

We were on the couch, legs tangled together, my head on his chest. His heartbeat was solid and steady beneath my ear.

His fingers drifted along the curve of my spine, slow and absentminded. I could tell he was holding his breath a little. Like he was still afraid to exhale.

I wasn’t. Not tonight.

I tilted my head to look up at him. “Roman?”

He looked down immediately. His brows were knit, like he thought I was about to break something between us. But I was done breaking. I was done hiding.

“I’ve been thinking…” I paused. The words swelled behind my teeth. “I want to talk about the bond.”

Roman froze. His hand went still against my back. He didn’t say anything.

I pushed forward anyway. “I want it. It’s not fake for me anymore. It hasn’t been for a while. And maybe I was scared. Maybe I didn’t think I was someone worth choosing, but—”

He cupped the side of my face so gently it undid me. “Maggie,” he said, and my name in his mouth made everything inside me still.

His thumb traced the line of my cheekbone. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

There was so much relief in his voice, as if he’d been holding something so heavy for so long and it had just lifted.

“I wanted to ask you, so many times. I thought about it every day. Every time you walked into a room. But I didn’t want to pressure you. You’ve already been through enough. I wanted it to be your choice.”

“It is,” I said softly. “I want this. I want you, Roman.”

Something shifted then. Not between us—within us. We weren’t broken people stumbling into each other anymore. We weren’t just roommates or fake partners. We were choosing this. Choosing each other.

He kissed me.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t needy.

It was reverent.

His lips moved against mine like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact moment, and now that it was here, he wasn’t going to waste a single second.

My hands slid into his hair, tugging him closer as I straddled his lap.

He gripped my waist, firm and shaking just a little, like he still couldn’t believe I was here.

“Take me to bed,” I whispered against his mouth.

He didn’t speak as he picked me up and carried me down the hallway. The second we were in his room, everything slowed down. He set me on the bed gently and knelt in front of me, like I was something sacred.

I pulled my shirt off first. He watched.

Then I helped him out of his shirt and explored the familiar, beautiful lines of his chest, his shoulders, the steady rise and fall of someone trying not to lose control.

He kissed me again—harder this time, his tongue sliding against mine like he owned the space. There was no performance here, no pretending for anyone. Just raw need. Just us.

We stripped each other slowly, almost painfully so, like we both wanted to savor every inch. My fingers skimmed the ridges of his abs as I pushed his shirt over his head. His hands swept down my sides, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts before sliding under my top and tugging it away.

“Perfect,” he murmured, eyes dragging over me. “Every damn part of you. You know that?”

Heat flooded my cheeks and my core. “Roman…”

“Shh,” he said as he trailed kisses over my collarbone. “Let me tell you what you are. Mine.”

He pressed me back into the mattress, settling between my legs, his weight solid and hot. His mouth found that spot just below my ear, and I shivered.

“Feel that?” he whispered, his voice a deep rumble. “That’s what you do to me. You make me lose every bit of control I have.”

I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, my lips brushing his ear. “I’m yours.”

His hands tightened on my hips. “You’ve always been mine. From the second I saw you.”

When he finally thrust into me, I gasped. Every inch of him filled me slowly, deliberately.

“Fuck, Maggie,” he groaned, forehead pressing to mine. “So good. So tight around me. You were made for this. For me.”

Every thrust was deep, dragging, making me feel every inch. One of his hands slid up, fingers weaving through mine, pinning it above my head. The other skimmed over my ribs, down to my hip, guiding me against him.

“That’s it. Take me. All of me,” he murmured. “You look so good like this. I could watch you come apart for me every night.”

The pleasure built sharp and fast, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Don’t hold back,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “I want to hear you. I want to feel you lose it for me.”

The bond shimmered between us, hot and electric, like the air before a storm.

His mouth hovered at my neck, his voice rough. “I want to mark you. I need everyone to know you’re mine. Do you want this?”

I nodded. Gasped out, “Yes.”

His bite was sharp, a white-hot sting that stole my breath—then it shifted, fast, into something so intense I couldn’t contain the sound that tore from my throat. Pleasure crashed through me in a dizzying, all-consuming wave, rippling out from the mark and flooding every nerve.

Heat pooled low in my belly, spreading until it my whole body was molten, until I couldn’t tell where the pain ended and the bliss began. My thighs trembled, my back arched, my hands fisted in his hair as if by holding him there, I could keep this feeling forever.

I came hard—harder than I’d ever thought possible—my body clenching around him in deep, pulsing waves. It was more than release. It was completion. Like a missing piece I’d never known was gone had been locked into place in one perfect, devastating instant.

“That’s it,” he groaned against my skin, his voice rough and reverent all at once. “God, you’re perfect when you come for me.”

Tears burned behind my eyes—not from pain, but from the overwhelming rush of it all.

I felt tethered to him in a way that went deeper than flesh and bone, like my soul had found its anchor.

The bond shimmered inside me, pulsing in time with my heartbeat, a steady hum of you’re safe, you’re mine, you’re home.

I was shaking, the aftershocks rippling through me, but he wasn’t done. He thrust into me harder, deeper, chasing his own release, his praise spilling out in a raw stream—how good I felt, how beautiful I was, how I was his.

When he came, it was with my name on his lips, his body shuddering against mine. He held me there, tight, like he was afraid I’d disappear.

We stayed tangled together, breathing hard, my fingers tracing lazy circles over his back.

He kissed my temple, then my lips. “I love you, Maggie.”

I smiled, resting my hand over the steady beat of his heart—and the new bond thrumming with it. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

His laugh was low and wicked. “Thank fuck.”

He kissed me again—slow, certain, and filthy in the best way—like he wasn’t done proving it.

I hadn’t even caught my breath yet when the knock came. It was loud. Sharp. Like someone trying to summon the dead—or interrupt the living.

I groaned and flopped onto my back, my body still humming from Roman ruining me in the best possible way.

My skin was flushed, the sheets tangled around me, and I had zero interest in putting clothes back on.

Roman lay beside me, chest rising and falling, that lazy grin on his face like he’d just won the goddamn lottery.

The knock came again, more impatiently.

“I swear to God,” I muttered, kicking off the blanket and yanking the top sheet around my body like a toga. “If this is a religious zealot, I’m going to convert to something spiteful.”

Roman chuckled, voice thick with satisfaction. “Want me to answer it?”

“You’re naked.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one with better neighborly instincts.”

I padded down the hallway, pulling the sheet tighter just in case it was, in fact, an aggressive cult recruiter. When I opened the door, Doris stood on the other side in her usual outfit—patterned slacks, button-up cardigan, hair teased like she had a vendetta against humidity.

We locked eyes. I didn’t even try to hide my exasperation.

“We really have to stop meeting like this,” I said dryly.

Doris looked me up and down. Her gaze hit the sheet. Then the flushed cheeks. Then—unfortunately—the hickey blooming on my collarbone.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Well, I just wanted to say,” she began, arms crossed over her clipboard, “that I hope you got yours.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. You’re glowing. I say, go get it, honey. You tell that man of yours he can stay.”

My mouth fell open.

“But…” She held up a finger. “If he breaks your heart, he’s evicted. On the spot. I won’t even give him thirty days. I’ll haul his furry little ass out with my own two hands.”

I barked out a laugh. I couldn’t help it. She said it with all the fiery conviction of a woman who once got dumped by a man named Harold in 1979 and swore vengeance on an entire gender.

“I’ll tell him,” I said, trying to contain my grin. “Thank you, Doris.”

She nodded. “And… next time, maybe wait until after business hours before doing whatever it is you two were doing. The walls are thin, sweetheart.”

My entire face flamed. Doris turned and shuffled off down the hall like she hadn’t just delivered a sexual TED Talk at my front door.

I closed it slowly behind me, resting my forehead against the wood for a second, trying to recover. When I turned back around, Roman was leaning casually in the doorway to the bedroom, one hand resting on the frame, a towel slung dangerously low on his hips.

His brow arched. “Everything okay?”

“Doris says you can stay.”

His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Really?”

“But,” I said, walking toward him and poking his bare chest with one finger, “if you break my heart, she’ll personally evict you.”

He laughed under his breath and pulled me into him. “That woman is terrifying.”