Page 61 of The Cuddle Clause
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?”
