Seeing him, she gave a little start and tried to wipe the tears on her tiny sleeve, pretending she was merely yawning.

Plenty of women had tried to sway him with tears. Daria had hidden hers from him.

Something tightened in his chest.

"I wanted to wash." Her voice wavered a little. "But I couldn't find the shower."

He couldn't stop the smile. "You're sitting in it."

She looked up, surprised. "There's no showerhead. No faucet."

He reached a hand down to her. "Here. Let me show you."

She took his hand, let him pull her to her feet. She seemed frail, but she wasn't a tiny woman -- the top of her head nearly reached his shoulder. Her shyness, her tears, made her seem vulnerable. He cupped that pointed little chin in his hand and gazed down into her face. Her eyes were red from crying, her cheeks blotchy, her eyelids puffy. She looked terribly unhappy... and wretchedly unattractive. Yet he'd never felt more protective of a woman. Those tears were his fault.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Her reddened eyes went wide. "Sorry for what?"

"For giving you cause to cry."

She shook her head, and his hand fell away. "You didn't."

"I should have known." He clenched his hands. "I did know you couldn't possibly want a man. But I wanted you, so I ignored my principles."

"You..." She dropped her gaze to his chin. "You really wanted me?"

If she came any closer, or even glanced further down, she'd note the evidence of how badly he wanted her right now. Despite the puffy eyes and unattractive sniffling. It must be those incredibly shapely legs of hers. "You know I did."

A ghost of a smile curved her mouth. "I thought you were just... doing me a favor."

"A favor? Had I granted you a favor, I'd have left you in peace. And you would not be weeping."

She shook her head. "I begged you to get in bed with me. To hold me. I... I wanted you, too."

Yes, she had. Even though she didn't know who he was. She hadn't wanted anything more from him than comfort. Than pleasure. She'd wanted him. Only him.

"Daria, stay with me."

That made her eyes come back up. What was he saying? He felt as surprised as she looked.

"What?" she asked, as if she'd read his mind.

"Stay with me. I'm going to be on Earth for at least six months." Longer, if the election went his way. But thinking of that was totally premature. "I want you to stay with me... for a time."

She bit her lip. Clearly thinking of the words to refuse him.

He touched her elbow; she didn't pull away, nor did she meet his gaze. "I'm usually a better bed companion than... well, than I was with you."

She gave a watery laugh. "If you were any better, I wouldn't be able to walk."

"Then you'll stay?"

Her head dipped even lower, hiding more of her face. "I don't know."

"I'll pay you." How much could she be earning? It didn't matter. "Just tell me what you earn in your best night. I'll pay you more."

"You'll pay me for sex," she said tonelessly.

He gripped her upper arms with both hands. "By the gods, would you rather have other men pay you? Strangers? Would you rather be out on the docks, where men can take their pleasure from you by force?"

Her face paled. "You're hurting me."

Her whisper stunned him more than the loudest shout. He released her arms and saw white and red marks from his fingers... just below another bruise, perhaps from those rumaariti criminals. "I'm sorry." The words sounded stupid. And inadequate.

As inadequate as his offer. He didn't want to pay her for sex. He wanted to help her. Help her out of the dangerous profession she was in.

"You don't have to pleasure me." Sanwar, he sounded desperate. Desperate and deranged. He'd just admitted that he'd wanted her; he wanted her still. Why was he telling her she didn't have to lie with him?

Her chin rose a notch. "I won't take your money for nothing. I'm not a charity case."

He'd never heard the expression, but her meaning was clear. "You can do other work for me. I need..." Inspiration struck. "I need an assistant."

She looked skeptical. "What kind of assistant?"

He had four hands' worth of assistants already. What could she... "My English is terrible.

Sometimes I can barely understand you." Far from the truth, but a plausible lie. "I need someone to instruct me."

"You could hire a tutor."

"I need someone who knows colloquial English," he countered. "I'm going to be meeting a lot of different people here. People from other cultures. Other continents. I need someone to help me communicate with them. Someone who can understand their concerns. Someone like you."

She tilted her head a little to one side, obviously considering his offer. Suddenly her cheeks flooded with color. "What if I want to sleep with you?"

Sleeping next to her, unable to touch her, would be akin to torture. Why would she even want that? But he shrugged, feigning indifference. "I'm happy to have you sleep with me. Although you might appreciate the privacy of your own bed."

She smiled. "You really do need a tutor. To sleep together is just an expression. A euphemism for having sex."

What a ridiculous, paradoxical expression -- with her in his bed, they'd have little sleep. "I would enjoy sleeping with you," he answered. "If you will it."

"For money?"

He almost said yes. A reflexive answer. But was that a challenge in her voice? A trace of pride in the tilt of her chin? She couldn't possibly want to sell her body. Not even to him.

"No," he said. "I'll pay you to help me with my English. But if we sleep together, it will be only for the pleasure we give each other."

When she smiled at him, he knew he'd said the correct thing. The rush of happiness he felt took him by surprise.

She nodded. "I accept your offer."

He wanted to kiss her, but she held out her hand. He shook it in the ritual Earther fashion, absurd as it seemed with him naked and his turgid root a scant hand's width from her belly.

"Now will you show me how this crazy alien shower works?"

"There's a skill to it," he replied, closing the door behind them.

She looked up at him expectantly. "What skill?"

With effort, he restrained a smile. "Shower on."

Electrons hummed, swirling on a warm rush of air. Now he couldn't help but grin. "There. That's the only skill required."

She looked astonished. "Where's the water?"

He laughed. "Water? Prendara's an arid world, Daria. Water's precious. We shower with sonic waves. Electrons."

"It tingles."

She spoke as if this was as new to him as it was to her. The wonder in her voice made him feel rather... tender. "I know," was all he could think to say.

"What do I do? Just stand here?"

The confined space, the closeness of her body, the rush of warm air ruffling her hair... somehow this seemed more intimate than being in bed with her. He'd had more sexual encounters than he could ever recall, but he'd never bathed with a woman before.

And he couldn't resist the urge to touch her. He brushed a hand over her head, weaving his fingers through her long black hair. She might not be a beautiful woman, but her hair was quite lovely, straight and thick. "Rub your hands over your skin."

He stroked over her shoulders, then up her neck to her cheeks, cupping her face in his hands. The swollen, blotchy redness -- remnants from her tears -- was fading, leaving her skin creamy and pink.

Her lips were full, far too lush for her slender face. Strange how he could know that for a fact, yet be unable to resist them. He pressed a gentle kiss to that wide mouth, and electrons hummed between their lips. A sigh brushed his chin before she leaned away -- not withdrawing, just looking up at him.

She laid her hands on his forearms, then skimmed her way up to his shoulders, spreading tingling electron waves in her wake. "Like this?"

"Yes."

Her eyes were wide and wondering. "How does it work?"

"When you move your hands, the sonic wave moves with you." His fingers slid down her arms, demonstrating. He knew she felt the rush of warm air and electrons tingling on her flesh. "The electrons dissolve oil and dirt."

"Without soap?"

He stepped closer and stroked her back, embracing her but not holding her. "It's better than soap. It's ecological. And it won't dry your skin." Your soft, silky skin.

Her arms came around him, her small hands mirroring the motions of his. She moved closer, closer, until her breasts teased his chest. Her nipples were already hard, scoring his skin with every breath she took.

She turned her face and rested her cheek on his collarbone as she rubbed his back. He tilted his head, pressing his lips to her forehead. Prendarian women were too tall. He'd never noticed until this very moment. Daria seemed the perfect height, small enough to shelter in his arms, but not so small that he felt like a giant oaf.

Gentle fingers sifted through his hair, curved around his neck, and stroked down his arms. Her warm body, her petting hands, sent little tingling pulses over his skin. Was it the sonic wave, or merely her touch? No matter. Whatever the source, she made this shower seem more erotic than any experience he could recall.

The tingling centered in his chest, under the heat of her stroking fingers. He felt as if every hair, every nerve ending, strained toward her hand.

She pulled her head away and watched her hand move on him. As if she'd never touched a man's chest in her life.

Sanwar, he was a fool. She'd probably touched hundreds.

Fortunate that he'd never been a jealous man. Nor was he now. There was no cause to be jealous of men who paid her for pleasure. She'd wanted none of them... not like she wanted him. She was here with him willingly. Giving him pleasure willingly.

He lowered his head and caught her mouth in a kiss. She tilted her face up, moving her lips on his. Not just willing --eager. Without thought, he pulled her close. Her fingers curled in the hair on his chest, and she murmured against his mouth... something unintelligible.

"I hope that was more," he said. "Or yes."

She smiled against his lips, then leaned back to look into his eyes. "Maybe."

The teasing light in her face drew a smile from him. He'd tease her in turn. With his body, not his words. "Lift your arms."

She lifted her elbows, keeping that tantalizing hand on his chest. The skin under her arms felt unbelievably soft. Soft and hairless... exotic silky skin, tender and bare under his hands. Like her legs. His knees grew weak, and he had to lock them to stay upright.

"Are you sure we're getting clean?" Her voice sounded husky, needy. As if she didn't care about bathing at all.

His hands drifted over her collarbones. Gods, how he hated seeing her in this torn shirt. If he'd waited even one more tick before leaving the ship, he might have been too late.

"The shower works best if you're naked."

She blushed, just a hint of delicate color. With a coy little glance, she turned her back to him. The shirt came off over her head and fell to the floor.

He reached around her and cupped her breasts. She gasped. His fingers wandered upward, finding her peaked nipples. His cock, already hard, grew to full length.

"You see?" he murmured against her neck. "Now you're getting clean."

She pressed back against him, and he couldn't resist. He rubbed his cock against her ass, pulling her hips tight to increase the pressure. He wanted to tear off this stretchy little skirt... to bend her over and plunge deep into her heat.

Not yet. Not until she was feverish with need.

One greedy hand wandered from her hip to her sex. His fingers touched her nest, teasing through the thin fabric of her undergarment. Ah, time to begin his tutoring.

"What do you call this sweet place, Daria?"

She stiffened. In embarrassment? "What do you call it?"

He nuzzled the space where her neck met her shoulder and dipped his fingers deeper. "In Prendarian, we use the word for nest."

"There are... dozens of words in English."

Why was she reluctant to tell him? Was she so shy? "Which of those words do you prefer?"

Her shoulder lifted in a delicate shrug. "I don't have a preference."

"You agreed to be my tutor." Her neck, so warm under his mouth, demanded a long, slow lick.