Preservation (The Walshes, #7)

by Kate Canterbary

I followed her into the bright, open kitchen at the back of the house. I'd designed this space and the adjoining dining room, and always felt a pulse of satisfaction when seeing it used as I'd intended.

She was all strength and sinew, and thick thighs that looked prime for biting. Ah, I loved thick thighs. I didn't know what it was men—or women—found attractive about skinny bird legs. I liked something to hold onto. Skin to squeeze.

It didn't seem that she made a habit of smiling, but just as the Mojave Desert was known to find itself awash in wildflowers on a single spring day, those rare instances were probably worth months of inhospitable conditions.

I liked a girl who growled.

No one had any business with an ass like that. Or abs… …or arms… …or face. It was obnoxious, really. The whole perfectly built picture. No one needed that much.

He was gangly, all long limbs and broad, tanned shoulders and hands like bear paws. Dark hair, thick and wavy. Bright, expressive eyes that weren't simply blue but sapphire. He was a young one, too. He was still growing into that body. And what a body it was. But he had a Batman tramp stamp, for fuck's sake.

who'd throw down in a seedy bar because someone looked at a woman the wrong way.

That kind of smile with those kinds of abs? It was like staring straight at the sun. There was no way I could deal with this much man without resenting him for existing. They weren't supposed to be this perfect.

Those cheekbones. They didn't even look real.

If we were comparing big guys, Cal Hartshorn, cardiothoracic surgeon extraordinaire, he was a hunk of granite. Riley was what happened after the sculptor got his hands on the granite.

His voice was low and deep, and the words didn't resemble words at all. They were growls and sighs,

Honeybee."

something about him was so fucking loyal that it hurt.

Riley's square, scruff-covered jaw

regardless of whether I didn't want to know him or like him or any other lie I'd sold myself.

"I'd know how you liked everything."

mountain range known as his shoulders.

Riley: This attitude of yours… Alex: It's a handful. Riley: Good thing I have two hands.

It was the kind of pretty that was subtle and slow to sneak up on you, but when it did, it struck hard.

He was gorgeous in a fresh, arresting way that made all the other pretty boys out there look airbrushed beyond belief.

He replied with a sharp slap to my ass. "Doctor Emmerling, I'm tickled to see you this evening," she said. She shifted toward Riley of the Ass-Grabbers, who didn't limit himself to grabbing. Not when he could pat and squeeze.

But then he decided to turn his face and kiss my temple, and I was done. Down for the count.

if Riley had a mind to continue smelling like such a—a man—I was finding it soon.

"You don't need to change a thing,"

"Text me when you get home, okay?"

Giving a shit about people. It was the only way to stay a step above the douche waffles of the world.

Riley: For what it's worth, I'm not embarrassed to admit that I think a dude is hot.

There was a gravity associated with Riley. A pull. I couldn't be near him without being drawn closer, and he never failed to take it a step further. A hand on my waist. An arm around my shoulders. A leg pressed to mine.

"I didn't speak until I was four, and when I did, I had major speech impediments," he said. "I stutter almost every day. I've never been anywhere near perfect."

His voice was soft yet husky, the way I would expect to him to speak in bed.

He wasn't an obnoxiously perfect player man-child anymore. He was a man I cared for now, and he was neither player nor child.

Pointing at his crotch helplessly, he said, "It doesn't fit comfortably in most pants. The zippers don't stay up."

I would've preferred to stay at home with a big bowl of cereal, pajamas, and a Marvel movie marathon.

To her credit, she didn't even blink at my stutter. She never did.

Eventually, I said, "You know, you expect a lot of yourself." With the hand that wasn't trapped under mine, Alex reached for a chunk of cheese and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes sparkled as her lips turned up in a sharp, devious grin. "I expect a lot of everyone."

People were interchangeable in her world, whereas they were permanent in mine.

Never in my life had one woman robbed me of my game.

When had it happened? When had Alex stolen all the warm, tender places inside me for herself? And the rough, barbaric ones, too? It was as though she'd wandered into my life, all tiptoes and whispers, and reached in and rearranged my entire existence until it started and stopped with her.

I was sitting across from a man who'd said some of the filthiest, naughtiest, most amazing words ever uttered between the sheets

Too bad lust was a fucking idiot who didn't know what was good for her.

My mind flashed to our room at the inn and I saw my hand circling Alex's neck. I heard myself saying, "I'm in charge here. Understand?"

called her Aly. Aly.

What a splendid treat, being loved all the way down to the minute.

Riley laughed at my desperation. "Do as you're told and I'll give you what you want."

"You make me want everything," I admitted. "Things I don't even understand."

Tell me how to be everything you need. I'm not stopping until you get it."

"You're clumsy in the streets but you're a beast in the sheets."

"You're real," I challenged, "and to me, that's perfection."

Riley: Do you want to stop? We can stop at any time. I'll delete every single photo right now if that's what you want.

"I want to be the first person to hear your good news, and I want your bad news, too. All of it, Aly. I'll take it. Anything you want to give me."