Page 44 of Striker’s Rebel

The hunger in his voice does something ridiculous to my stomach.

He does it again, watching my face while his mouth moves along my throat.

“Striker.”

“Like hearing you say my name.”

He catches my nipple between his fingers, just enough pressure to make my back arch.

His mouth curves against my skin.

“You like that too.”

“Maybe.”

“Liar.”

I kiss him before he can get any more pleased with himself.

His hand leaves my breast and travels down my stomach.

When it slips beneath my waistband, uncertainty hits hard enough that I stiffen.

Striker stops immediately.

His eyes lift to mine.

“What?”

I swallow.

“I haven’t done this before.”

His brow tightens.

“This?”

“Any of it.”

He goes still.

“June.”

There’s no graceful way to say it, so I don’t try.

“I’m a virgin.”

For a second, he just looks at me.

Then something in his expression changes.

Not shock.

Something darker.

Possessive enough that my pulse jumps.

“You’ve never had a man touch you?”