She blinked. “Like what? More photos?”
He pulled her tighter against him. Her T-shirt felt cool and slightly damp against the naked skin of his torso. Despite the chill of the fabric, it was the sensation of her full breasts pressing against his ribs that made his skin roughen. Her erect nipples were a distraction. He forced himself to focus.
“Not just photos. You’ve said yourself you don’t experience any connection to photos of Adelaide Durand.”
“What, then?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“Alan and Lynn Durand’s physician still practices at Morgantown Memorial. He’s in possession of some of their genetic material. Alan arranged it that way before he passed, because he wanted to make sure there was a potential means of identifying Addie. You could find out without a doubt if the Durands were your parents.”
She stared up at him blankly. “You want me to go for genetic testing?”
“Only if you’re up for it. It doesn’t have to be now,” he said, caressing her neck. He’d learned from experience in the past week that his touch helped to ground her. Soothe her. Distract her from her phantoms. It was selfish, too, but he wasn’t above using that fact proactively to help her through this process.
He wasn’t above using anything, in that cause.
“You mean . . . it doesn’t have to be now, but it does have to be sometime.”
He strained to keep his expression impassive, very much aware that he was once again walking through a minefield.
“I knew the truth almost the first second I saw you. I don’t need any proof that what I told you is one hundred percent true,” he said, holding her stare.
“But there will be those that demand the solid proof.”
An imagined vision of a roomful of somber Durand executives and attorneys—all the potential doubters and naysayers, people who were panicked at the idea of possible upheaval at Durand Enterprises—flew into his mind’s eye. “There will be plenty who eventually want to see those test results,” he repeated as calmly as possible.
She bit her lip and glanced aside. Aside from all these bizarre circumstances she found herself in, Dylan knew Alice Reed was typically a practical, down-to-earth young woman with a brilliant brain for mathematics and business. Never let it be said that genes weren’t telling. Alan Durand had possessed one of the finest business minds he’d ever known, and Lynn had been an outstanding scholar. She’d been an assistant professor of mathematics at the University of Michigan when Alan had first met her. He was glad to see Alice focus so rationally on the difficult topic.
“I don’t want anything of Addie Durand’s, so why should it matter?” she asked.
“You don’t know that yet.”
“I know what I want and don’t want, Dylan.”
“Then do it for yourself,” he suggested without pause. He’d been prepared for her response. He’d been prepared for her stubbornness.
“Myself?”
He nodded. “That’s what I meant before. You need tangible proof. Not just my word. You need firsthand evidence. It’ll be something firm to grasp onto.”
“A solid start,” she whispered.
“A solid start,” Dylan agreed, relief sweeping through him because he’d seen something click in her gaze, and knew she’d go for the genetic testing. He needed that tangible proof as a shield against potential challenges.
He leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. His kiss was meant to be gentle and reassuring, but Alice was having none of it. She put her hand on the back of his head, pulling him farther down to her and going up on her tiptoes. He responded to her invitation as always.
Wholesale.
Their kiss deepened. His lust flared high on the fuel of her reciprocated need. So sweet. So Alice-like, to be wary and doubting one moment, and then taking him to the center of the flames within two seconds flat.
He would have to have her again tonight, experience her melting beneath his touch, laid bare and submitting to the bond between them. He needed it for Alice’s sake.
He required it for his own.
TWO
Dylan leaned down over her, their mouths melding, their tongues tangling. His hands were greedy and sure as they molded her back muscles and hips, and then slid beneath her underwear to cup her buttocks. Alice pressed closer to him, becoming desperate at the evidence of his growing erection just behind the fly of his jeans. Her hands mimicked his, sliding beneath the low waistband of his jeans and caressing the round hard globes of his ass. Arousal spiked through her, demanding and sharp. She thought it must have been the same for Dylan, because he groaned roughly into her mouth and shifted his hands as if to lift her.
She knew him well enough to guess he was about to carry her to bed and consume her utterly. One thing about Dylan: He never did anything halfway.