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was the only man she’d ever slept with. Even he, practiced lover though he was, had never gotten her so wet so quickly. Just a few kisses and light caresses from Stag and she was ready to give it up to him in this tiny room hardly bigger than a broom closet. He was dangerous.
    “I need to go,” she said with forced calm. “Please move, Stag.”
    “I’ll carry you.”
    It wasn’t an offer; it was an order. That was the way Stag usually spoke to her. Sherry almost protested out of habit. But it was a long walk without her cane, which had been left by her chair in front of the stove. She let him swing her up into his arms and immediately discovered another reason she shouldn’t be carried by him: he smelled too hot and sexy for her libido to calm.
    As Stag carried her through the big room to the stove they’d been sitting at, dozens of people watched them avidly. Probably everyone knew what they’d just been doing. Sherry pretended she wasn’t embarrassed by the attention. The shame she felt was harder to put away. She never should have gone so far with Stag. They definitely had chemistry. How far would they have gone if she hadn’t had a mini panic attack? Plenty far, she figured.
    She grabbed up her scarf and stuffed it in the canvas sack. After a quickly mumbled goodnight to Marissa, Red Wing, and Stag, she snatched her cane and went up the stairs to her room. She let herself cast one glance over the stair rail at Stag. He was smiling at the stove like he was the happiest man on earth. If all she thought about was the just the pleasure of his hands and mouth on her, she’d be smiling, too.
    But she’d learned one very important thing from tonight: she couldn’t be comfortable making love with Stag. Not yet. Maybe not ever. The near-panic she felt when he took control was a red flag. During the few seconds when he’d ignored her demands to stop, her fear had spiked into terror. What if he’d kept ignoring her? Would he have raped her? It was a scary thought. She’d had enough of being powerless with her grandfather, her father and LeRoi. And Stag, growling werewolf that he was, would demand complete control.
    Funny, his wolf side had always scared and repelled her, but tonight in the pantry she hadn’t thought of it once. Even when his fingers had been sliding between her thighs and he’d bit down on her breast, she hadn’t thought about his wolf. All she could think of then was the fear that nearly choked her.
    She would have to talk to Jodi and Dixie about this. They could help her learn to deal with it. She wondered how her second honeymoon with LeRoi would have gone. They had abstained from sex, waiting for their anniversary to make love for the first time since their reconciliation. LeRoi had promised her it would be perfect. Would she have felt that same fear with him? Probably. Weary tears welled as she acknowledged to herself that the reconciliation probably wouldn’t have lasted. Even while boarding the plane she had felt like she was making a mistake.
    She would have to talk to Stag tomorrow, tell him she needed time away from him to be counseled in order to learn how to trust. He wouldn’t like it, but too bad. He would just have to suck it up.

Chapter Three
     
     
    Stag stared at his mate in horrified confusion. “What?”
    “I’m sorry,” Sherry said. Her eyes didn’t want to stay steady on his, continuously flicking aside and coming back again. “It’s just that I’m not ready yet. I need more time to … adjust. I need to deal with … things before we –uh—kiss again. Or anything else.”
    He’d woken this morning eager to see Sherry. She’d kissed him last night! They had talked about important things. Finally, the months of patient wooing were paying off. She was beginning to accept him and he was eager to move further along with their relationship. His mouth remembered the taste of her round breasts and hard crinkled nipples. He’d hurried to bathe this morning so he