Eventually, they changed into fresh clothes, the softness of cotton and clean fabric a welcome contrast to their earlier indulgence. Thankfully, the luxurious hotel had an entire walk-in wardrobe stocked with outfits of all sizes and styles, clearly designed for guests who arrived with nothing or, perhaps, left everything… behind.
They didn't even bother looking for their original clothes. At this point, finding a single piece intact would've been nothing short of a miracle. Between the scratching, tugging, biting, and whatever else last night had spiraled into, those clothes had likely been reduced to shreds. A casualty of war… one that neither of them regretted in the slightest.
Rex glanced at the floor near the bed, spotting a lone button under the table. "That from your dress or mine?" he asked dryly.
Monica laughed. "Who cares? All I know is, if that suite could talk, it'd probably demand trauma counseling."
…
