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throat. His fingers plucked at one of her tight nipples. “Here. I want to feel you in my mouth. Please.”
    He said please. How could a lonely girl being touched by a gorgeous guy refuse a plea that shook with his need? Sherry barely hesitated before raising her sweater front over her head and letting it rest at the back of her neck. Her arms were still in the sleeves, her bra twisted under her chin, but Stag didn’t seem to mind. He lifted her to sit on the counter behind them to bring her breasts closer to his mouth.
    “Go ahead,” she whispered. “Taste me, Stag.”
    The wet heat of his mouth drove all thought out of her head. The way his teeth scraped lightly over her and his tongue and lips sucked was heaven. She was rapidly turning into a mindless puddle of need that almost drowned out her tiny bit of trepidation. The pleasure was so intense she almost didn’t notice the way his hands groped at her waist, trying to find a way to slide inside her pants. But when one of his large hands pushed impatiently past the drawstring waist and into her panties to brush over the damp hair above her thighs she jolted suddenly and thoroughly out of her sexual haze of pleasure. The way he took control of the encounter overwhelmed the pleasure and left her feeling vulnerable.
    “No, Stag,” she whispered, pushing ineffectively against his shoulders. “I’m not ready for that. Stop.”
    But he didn’t, pushing his fingers through her pubic hair instead and probing at her entrance while nipping at her breast. His touch between her legs wasn’t hurting her, but fear squeezed her lungs shut. They had gone way too far already. He was a steamroller crushing her beneath him. When she tried to pull her thighs tightly together he growled and bit down on her nipple with more force. It almost hurt. Her heart thundered in her throat.
    “Stop it!” she said sharply. “Let me go!”
    He froze when she began pulling his hair. “Not yet, mate,” he growled. “I want a little more. I’ve waited so long for you. Please, a little more.”
    She shocked both of them by slapping the face he pressed close to her heart. “No! Let me go or I’ll scream!”
    Oh, God , Sherry thought, will he be like LeRoi and slap me back ?
    Stag pulled his hands away from her to grip the counter on either side of her hips and leaned his forehead against the side of her neck, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …” He sniffed, then his head jerked up to stare at her. “You’re scared? Did I hurt you?”
    Embarrassment almost drowned her trembling nerves. She jerked her sweater back over her head, dislodging him. Thank God he didn’t sound angry. It was a point in his favor. “No.” Her voice trembled. “It’s okay.”
    Stag’s hands gripped her shoulders gently. “It’s not okay. I’m sorry, Sherry.”
    The regret in his voice and the gentleness in his hands were so different from what she would have expected from LeRoi. “It’s not all on you. This is my fault, too. I’m the one who raised my sweater.”
    His handsome face was creased with confusion. “Your fault? You said just one kiss. I’m the one who took more. I’m sorry, Sherry.”
    That was three times he’d apologized! Sherry swallowed the memory of caressing his very fine body before the embers of her passion could flare back to life. She was not interested in Round Two. “Well.” She straightened her sweater and smoothed its ribbed neck though it didn’t need it. “I think it’s time for me to go to bed. Alone,” she quickly added, in case he thought she was issuing an invitation.
    It wasn’t very bright in here with only the distant lamplight from the kitchen shedding a dim golden glow, but she could see the intense look in his eyes and the swell in his breechcloth. He plainly wasn’t ready to stop, but he didn’t try to cajole her into continuing. She should have stopped them sooner. She wasn’t a tease. A small needle of guilt stabbed her. LeRoi