[JASON]
The dimly lit storage room was suffused with the scent of dust and a faint trace of cleaning supplies. It was cramped, the shelves lined with boxes and forgotten supplies casting long, eerie shadows in the fluorescent glow of a single flickering bulb.
Despite the surroundings, the room pulsed with the fevered intensity of forbidden passion.
Kylie's back arched against the cold steel of a shelf, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as Jason held her firmly, moving with practiced ease. Her hands clung to his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as if anchoring herself in the moment.
In the haze of their tangled bodies, she managed to whisper, her voice breathy but edged with apprehension, "What's wrong with Iraya today? Don't you think she suspects something? About us?"