“You never once asked me how you ended up with the Reeds,” he said, his manner a little sad. “I knew it was because you weren’t ready to hear what they’d done.”
“But after remembering Lynn, I was?” she whispered. It made a weird kind of sense. That brief shining memory was an unshakable bedrock to her identity, something no one could ever take from her.
He grasped her head in both his hands and leaned forward to kiss her mouth tenderly. Alice sought out his warmth and hardness, pressing closer, sliding and biting at his lips with her own. She made a dissatisfied sound when Dylan moved back slightly. She stared into his deep eyes.
“It hasn’t been an easy night. Let’s go to bed,” he said gruffly.
“Yes.”
*
SHE cleaned up in the bathroom first and emerged wearing the fluffy bathrobe Dylan had given her. He rose from where he’d been sitting at the edge of the bed, checking his cell phone messages. Their gazes locked as he passed her on the way to the bathroom. He reached out and palmed her jaw.
“You okay?” he asked in a low rumble, leaning down and kissing her temple.
She’d be a heck of a lot better once they were in bed together.
“I’m fine.”
He straightened and gave her a “spare me the act” look. She winced. “I’m a little overwhelmed.”
His thumb traced her cheekbone gently. “An honest admission from Alice Reed. I’m impressed. Even if you are downplaying things drastically,” he murmured, his mouth curving into a small smile.
“Dylan?”
“Yeah?”
“I know you said Alan Durand never gave up that . . . I could be alive.” His nostrils flared slightly at her tentative “I”; at her referral to Addie and herself as the same person. It was going to take some getting used to. “But you didn’t, either. You kept the faith the longest of anyone. I just want to say it again—thanks.”
His expression turned very sober, even grim. He just nodded once and kissed her temple again with warm, lingering lips. “Get in bed. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said quietly, his mouth near her ear making her shiver.
After he’d gone into the bathroom and shut the door, she walked to the bed. Her fingers hesitated at the tie of her robe. Did he want to make love? She was a little confused by his manner tonight. He was so intense. So deep. It was as if their talk had begun to expose all of his layers, the manifold meanings of what Alan, Addie, and Durand Enterprises represented to him. It took her breath away, to consider that those folds and complexities of his character had been there already when she’d walked into the dean of business’s office at Arlington College and saw him sitting behind that desk.
He was a mystery to her, and yet she was such an integral part of his enigma. Or at least Addie was.
She thought of what he’d said regarding Sidney’s concerns for him. Sidney thought Dylan should have forged his life outside the long dark shadows of the Durands’ tragic past. What if Dylan had gone away after he’d finished college and never returned to his history at the Durand Estate? Surely Alice wouldn’t be standing there right now. But if by some miracle the truth about Addie Durand and the lies that constructed Alice’s life miraculously came to light, what would it be like if Dylan wasn’t there, holding her, reassuring her . . . touching her.
The thought chilled her to the bone. She drew off her robe. Even if he didn’t want to make love after their emotional talk, she wasn’t wearing pajamas underneath. Since they’d started having sex, she’d never once spent the night in anything but her own skin. She tossed the robe at the foot of the bed and climbed under the soft, luxurious sheets and comforter.
“He thinks that I’ve chosen to remain eclipsed by the tragedies that happened when I was a teenage boy. He is of the opinion that I’ve chosen a life of guilt and oppression instead of freedom to choose my life’s path.”
She shivered with cold and snuggled deeper in the covers. What if there was more than just a hint of truth to Sidney’s concerns? What did it mean to Alice?
Her anxious thoughts scattered at the sound of the bathroom door opening. She watched as he walked toward the bed, her heart sinking a little when she saw he wore a pair of thin black lounge pants that hung low on his narrow hips and left little to the imagination. He was coming to bed dressed—partially anyway. His cut, powerful torso was stunningly bare.