The other end of the phone is quiet. I down half my wine before shoving the glass aside. I think Shawn might have hung up, but then I hear his breathing hitch. “Were you using it?” he asks, and his voice takes on a different tone. It’s lower now, and silky smooth. It matches what he sounded like that night, and I’m transported back to his penthouse apartment, his hand around my neck and his mouth everywhere. “I was before you called,” I whisper. “Why’d you stop?” “I couldn’t exactly keep going when I was talking to you.” Shawn is quiet again before he says, “you could use it.” “W-what?” “You
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