you wanted to be alone with me, on this summer solstice eve, while I am apexing... while I need you now more than you can comprehend... after a year of abstinence from you, your body quivered for the touch of creative conception." He pointed toward the filled bath. "Salt water carries a charge, a current. Your voice carried the caress di-rectly to me. Your spirit opened the door and willed me through it. Your skin ignited the tub, and if I were a younger man without some measure of will, I would have become manifest right in there with you when you opened your beautiful legs to the suds! Why do you haunt me so?"
She opened her mouth and closed it. Watching his desire build fed hers until she almost couldn't stand. Damali reached out her hand to lean against the door frame. "Listen," she said, her words coming out in a breathy pant, "I . . ."
He walked to the foot of the tub and snatched up his torn robe. "And you now have extreme carnal knowledge to add to my misery? Before you knew, when you were still a virgin, even then I could withstand... but after, I will never rest!" he said, briefly closing his eyes. "Your music is different, deeper, huskier, sultrier, and builds on experience to crescendo in a way that only a woman with such knowledge could make happen. Mercy. I implore your compassion."
He looked up toward her skylight, as though addressing Heaven as he continued to speak. "I was to learn selfless sacrifice for my offenses. I did that. Eons of what you call lessons are only masqueraded torture for me. And this last trial is beyond my endurance--I cannot teach her and remain distant! It is her choice; free will. We must all abide by that."
His eyes lowered to meet hers, his voice a hoarse whisper of want that radiated in heat waves throughout the semilit room, making the candles sputter. "Damali, my love, there have been nights when I have wanted to take my own blade to my throat." His voice faltered, and he pulled on the ragged garment. "Do you not understand the relationship between creative conception, sound waves, and emotion? We were lovers. Oh, yes, Damali, and I loved you well," he whispered, "and the things you did to me are beyond compare."
Her jaw went slack. His impassioned confession was turning her legs to jelly. He'd already caused her to swell and slick moisture to build between her thighs. Her nipples stung so badly that it was all she could do not to cover them with her hands.
"Tonight, after your panic, whereby you thought I was what shall not be named, your lover will come to you, and he will benefit from this conversation." He looked at her, not allowing her eyes to leave his. "I have accepted that. You should as well. There is no guilt to be had in such things. Your body requires it, and my desire is that you never suffer want. But do know that just as he has provided for you, so have I. Do not diminish my value or my commitment."
She raked her fingers through her locks. Her brain was screaming. "I can't be with him and be with you at the same time. I can't think of you while I'm making love to him. What are you saying?" She clutched her hair as the renewed horror of it shot through her. "That isn't right." His eyes glittered with a level of knowledge that she couldn't fathom, and his lush mouth offered her a sly, primal, sexy smile. "Damali," he breathed, "every high note you've hit belonged, in part, to me."
"No, no, no no, no," she said, beginning to frantically pace. "There were times when it was just him and me and no music in the mix. Most times. Only on occasion was I composing in my head while with him. No."
"Oh, yes . . ." he said, the bass in the tone of his response bottoming out at the pit of her stomach, causing it to clench. "You compose your best music when you are making love. I will admit that there were times you denied me. I acknowledge his private possession of you with the utmost respect." He nodded and gave her a slight bow with a disarming smile. "However, just before and just after, you are always mine. When he was not there, and you needed to be touched,