She wasn’t like this. She wasn’t. She didn’t know the first thing about sex and she didn’t want it like this. Not without love. Not without caring. Just tearing at each other, a wild, hard mating that meant nothing at all. She couldn’t do this.

“Baby.” His voice was soft. “It will be all right. We’ll handle it.”

He knew. He saw her state, probably smelled her call. He knew—that was even more humiliating than being so out of control.

She shook her head. “This isn’t me. It’s not me.”

Even her voice was different. Sultry. Low. A distinct velvet whisper designed to play on a man’s senses. She wanted to scream. Rake the table with her claws. Bite Eli’s lower lip and rip the sweats from his body.

Her skin felt too tight. Her breasts were aching so badly it was painful. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She knew in another minute she would pull the shirt from her body and crawl all over Eli. She couldn’t do that again. She leapt up, and raced for the door. She had no idea where she was going, but maybe she could run so fast and so far, the fire building so hot inside would go away.

She’d taken three steps when Eli’s fingers settled around her wrist. She spun back to him, a low warning growl escaping, one hand swiping toward his face. He was prepared and he moved just in time, the claws missing by a scant inch.

The moment he touched her, she knew she was lost. His fingers burned a brand in her skin. She still tried, still fought the wild, uninhibited creature that she didn’t even recognize, but it was too late, she’d already aroused Eli.

His face was stamped with pure male sensuality. His eyes had gone molten, intense, lust rising to match her own. He caught the front of her flannel shirt and yanked down. Buttons popped and he stripped it off of her. The air hit her skin, fanning the flames even more, pushing the terrible need higher. She couldn’t think, not with the roaring in her head.

“I have to go” was all she could get out. But she wasn’t going. Her hands were already sliding down his chest to find the hem of his shirt.

He caught her face in his hands, yanking her chin up. “Look at me, Catarina. You can’t run from this. She’s too close. When you’re like this, you need me.”

She didn’t know whether she was going to scream at him or weep. She couldn’t stay still, not with the fierce heat sweeping through her like a firestorm out of control. What did a shifter do when they were out in public? It was horrible. Beyond anything she’d ever imagined, and far, far worse than the first time.