Chapter 77 – I Dated Balance Sheets for Two Hundred Years
The suite was wrecked.
The kind of wrecked that made even Lux blink as he sat up, blinking into the warm midnight dimness.
The blackout curtains were still mostly drawn, but the city lights bled through the gaps like tiny needles of gold. The air smelled thick — like sweat, sex, and heat sealed into expensive hotel sheets.
Pillows thrown everywhere.
Sheets half off the bed.
One of Rava's heels was still dangling from the lampshade.
There was even a faint suction mark on his chest where one of her more enthusiastic tentacles had apparently claimed him like a flagpole.
He exhaled, rubbing a hand through his completely destroyed hair. The strands curled messily over his forehead — some parts still damp with sweat and skin-on-skin friction.
