Rufus, on his knees, pulled off the condom and upended it above Wren’s chest, shaking the come out of it so it rained down on Wren’s chest, mixing with his own seed.
Wren knew.
He was in love.
The man in the corner got up suddenly. “Your payment is on the dresser. Feel free to use the en suite shower.”11
They hadn’t said a word to each other on the cab ride home from Edgewater. Wren was keeping his own counsel, because he was afraid if he said anything to Rufus he would break the spell—the magic that had been conjured up in the darkened apartment where, it seemed to Wren, they had been paid handsomely for simply falling in love.