Starfire by Kate Douglas

Your entire body, if you want.”
    He stared at her as she watched him. Her lips curved up in that delicious smile once again, and he was almost certain his heart stuttered in his chest.
    “I would like that. I would like that very much.” And then she tugged her fingers free of his.
    This time he let them go.
    He took a step back, moving out of temptation, if there were such a place while she was here, in his home. In his world.
    “It’s almost lunchtime, but I’m going to make us some breakfast. Eggs and bacon okay? Or do you prefer cereal?”
    She actually laughed at his question. “I always feel lucky if we’re allowed bread and a piece of cheese when we break fast. Surprise me. I have no idea what kind of foods you eat.”
    “I guess it’s all pretty strange to you, isn’t it?” He glanced over his shoulder, talking to her while he pulled a couple of pans out of the cupboard, and then raided the refrigerator.
    “Even Lemuria is strange to me. I’d never been outside the mines until I met Roland, and then only to the level above the one where we live and work. I had to be very careful not to be caught when I met him.” She sighed. “Obviously, this last time, I wasn’t careful enough. I’ve heard of so many places, but I’ve never seen any of them. Not even pictures. We had a few books to learn to read, but none with pictures.”
    He started the bacon frying and grabbed clean flatware and a couple of plates. “How is it you know as much as you do?” He smiled at her, hoping to put her at ease. The things she’d never experienced had to make this simple breakfast in a kitchen in Earth’s dimension utterly mind-boggling. “You’re comfortable with our language. That’s something I’ve never thought to ask. How is it all of you speak English?”
    She grinned. “Ah, that’s where my Lemurian heritage helps. We speak and understand all languages. No matter what you speak, we hear and understand the words, all the nuances of the language. You might be speaking English, but I am hearing Lemurian.”
    He set a glass of orange juice in front of her. Her eyes lit up. “What is this?”
    “Orange juice. From a type of fruit, a citrus. Try it.”
    She sipped. Her eyes widened, and she took a huge swallow. Then she set the glass down and slowly licked her lips. Dawson almost groaned when the pink tip of her tongue swept over the fullness of her upper lip and then brushed the lower.
    Staring at the glass, now only half full, she said, “This is wonderful. We have water and tea in the mines, but nothing like this.” She took another swallow. Again she licked an errant drop from her top lip.
    He couldn’t stand it. Turning away, Dawson poured himself a cup of coffee, took a swallow, and burned his tongue.
    Shit. He’d never felt so awkward around a woman in his life, nor enjoyed himself more. He loved the fact he could show her new things, give her new experiences. Orange juice was safe, but that wasn’t where his imagination wanted to lead him.
    The image of her perfect body, covered in bruises and contusions, flashed into his mind. She’d been through too much. More than any woman should have to bear. Damn. Stick to new memories, Daws. Good memories. Something besides slavery and brutality and a life where the sun never touched her smile.
    The snap of bacon frying drew him back to the stove. Selyn took another sip of orange juice and closed her eyes, as if lost in the sensual pleasure of the cold drink. Dawson tore his gaze away from her before his damned testosterone-fueled brain went off on other sensual pleasures, other things he’d like to show her. “Did you go to school?”
    That was a safe question, wasn’t it?
    She shrugged. “Not really. Our mothers taught us what they could. There was nothing organized for us. We’re slaves, after all. Not worthy of an education. I can read and write, and I know my numbers and the basic history of our world. I know some history of Earth, but not as much