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350 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 18, 2014
In the week since her interview, I never stopped to consider where she would spend the majority of her time or how we’d work together. I spent a fair amount of time thinking about her naked in every conceivable position.
“When I say you don’t give me much, this is what I’m talking about.”
“What would you like me to give you?”
“Everything.”
Andy showed me that it was possible for someone to know my soul.




Underneath It All (The Walshes, #1)
The Space Between (The Walshes, #2)
Necessary Restorations (The Walshes, #3)
The Cornerstone (The Walshes, #4)
Restored (The Walshes, #5)
The Spire (The Walshes, #6)
Preservation (The Walshes, #7)
Thresholds (The Walshes, #8)
Foundations (The Walshes, #9)
“All I could think about was wrapping those legs around my neck and feeling those ridiculous heels digging into my back while she writhed against my face.
Yep. That was a normal thought for the start of an interview.”
“Resisting Patrick Walsh required an iron chastity belt, not a self-control initiative.”

“Touching her, kissing her — it changed things. It changed everything. At least for me.”







I noticed the boots. I noticed them and the long legs encased in them about four seconds after I ripped my eyes away from her hair. They went all the way up to her knees. All I could think about was wrapping those legs around my neck and feeling those ridiculous heels digging into my back while she writhed against my face.
Yep. That was a normal thought for the start of an interview.
Inside five days, she became my left hand, and she loved it. It was a good thing she had no idea what I was doing with my left hand when she wasn’t around.
… Her brain was her sexiest feature, and working with her felt like the most bizarre, wonderful form of foreplay ever invented.
He turned my body into a needy, achy ball of want, and with each passing hour, I wanted him twice as much as I did the previous. And he was my boss – the man I idolized from afar for years, the man in control of my future as an architect.
“Patrick,” she sighed, her fingers scraping over my scalp.
“I want you making that sound while I’m fucking you. When you’re coming for me. When you’re begging for more, for me.”
“I want…I want to stop pretending this is ‘just sex’. This isn’t ‘just sex’ for me, Andy, and I don’t think it is for you either.”