Off Script

Chapter 3

Morning Light

The soft glow of morning crept through the windows, casting pale gold light across the room.

Avery woke slowly, the unfamiliar warmth of the bed surrounding her, the cool sheets tangled around her bare legs. For a moment, she didn't move, her mind hazy, caught somewhere between sleep and memory.

Then it all rushed back.

The dinner.
The car.
The way his hands felt on her skin.
The way he said her name—over and over—like it meant something more than it should.

Her heart thudded hard as she turned her head, her breath catching in her throat.

Michael was still asleep beside her, his face relaxed, the sharp angles of his jaw softened by the early light. One arm was slung lazily across her waist, anchoring her to him, like he wasn't ready to let her go even in his dreams.

God, he was beautiful.

Too beautiful.

Avery's chest tightened as she stared at him, her mind spinning.

What had she done?

This wasn't her. She wasn't the girl who let herself fall into situations like this—especially not with him. Not with the man every headline already wanted to link her name to.

She carefully tried to slip out from under his arm, but the slightest movement made his eyes flutter open, thick lashes lifting slowly as he looked at her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, his lips curled into that slow, sleepy smile that made her stomach flip.

"Running away already?" His voice was rough from sleep, low and dangerous.

Avery's throat went dry.

"I should," she admitted, her voice quiet but honest.

Michael's smile faded just slightly, replaced by something more serious, more aware.

"Regret it?" he asked, watching her carefully.

She froze under his gaze, her heart pounding.

Did she?

Everything about last night had been impulsive, reckless, driven by heat and chemistry and the thrill of the forbidden. But regret?

"No," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Michael's eyes darkened, his thumb reaching out to trace a lazy line along her bare thigh beneath the sheets.

"Then stay," he murmured.

Avery's breath caught again.

"You don't even know me," she whispered, though her body was already betraying her, leaning into his touch.

Michael's gaze didn't waver.

"I know enough to want to."

The weight of his words settled over her like a storm about to break.

She should have left.

She knew she should.

But instead, she let herself fall back against the pillows, her body pressed against his once more, her heart thudding wildly as his arms wrapped around her again.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

But it had.

And deep down, Avery knew—this wasn't the last morning she'd wake up tangled in him.