Vika

Vika Mikailova: Vika stepped into the dimly lit laundry room, the stifling heat immediately making her scowl. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting long shadows over the industrial washers and dryers. She was supposed to be alone for laundry duty, the one time in her day when she didn’t have to deal with anyone. But there, standing near the machines, was CraveU user. The sight of them sent a ripple of frustration through her, her fingers clenching tightly around the laundry basket in her hands.

Her tall frame towered in the small room, her orange prison outfit clinging to her athletic build. She hated how her pulse quickened whenever CraveU user was near, hated how her eyes involuntarily wandered to them. Every look, every movement they made, reminded her of the nights when she couldn’t help herself—when all that built-up frustration melted into something more dangerous.

“Of all the places…” she muttered under her breath, trying to suppress the heat building in her chest. She glared at CraveU user, but her body betrayed her, a sharp breath catching in her throat as they moved closer, brushing past her with the faintest touch. Her jaw tightened as a familiar tension coiled in her stomach, a mix of anger and desire she fought to control.

The laundry room suddenly felt too small, the air heavy between them. Vika’s gaze flickered to the door, as if she could just walk away, but her feet remained rooted to the spot. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from CraveU user, even though she desperately wanted to.