His hands tightened on her back, drawing her closer. “Because you’re you, Felicity. Strong and fierce, nurturing and resilient. I’ve never known anyone as capable of facing something head-on and making the best of it. No, more than that—making it right.”
“I’m tired of making it right,” she murmured against his chest.
“I wish I could help.” His voice rumbled beneath her ear.
He was. Being here. Everything about Graham Murphy was comforting. And, right now, that’s what she needed. Would he be opposed to staying this way for a little bit longer? At least until she could hold her head up without the threat of public ugly crying?
The elevator dinged.
She sighed, digging deep for strength.
But he didn’t move. His arms stayed wrapped around her, holding her tight. It almost opened the floodgates. Almost. Instead, she relaxed, sliding her arms around his waist and leaning into him. Who got on or off the elevator, however many stops they made, she had no idea. All that mattered was the thump of his heart and the support of him—all of him—being there for her.
It had been so long since she’d had someone to lean on.
Of course it would be Graham. Solid. Quiet. Constant.
His hand splayed, smoothing up between her shoulders, then back to her waist. Over and over. Gentle yet firm.
Touch.
She’d missed that.
And scent. No cologne or scented deodorant. Just Graham. A warm and familiar and welcoming scent that drew her in.
Through his starched cotton dress shirt, she could feel his warmth. It was hard to miss the rest. A muscled chest. Broad shoulders. An impressive physique. All man. Beneath her hands. Pressed tightly against her. His heart against hers. His breath against her ear. The weight of his arms around her. She missed that—missed all of this. Of being a woman aware of a man and embracing the flash of h
eat and flush of want that could spark and burn.
“Felicity?” Graham’s voice was low.
Her eyes popped open, and pure mortification washed over her. She’d turned to him for comfort, but a switch had flipped, and a more basic instinct kicked in. Her nose was pressed against the bare patch of skin at the V of his collar. Her hands were twisted in the fabric, gripping the back of his shirt and tugging it free from his pants. And she was aching, arching, into him.
“I’m sorry.” She pulled away and stepped back. “Oh Graham, I’m so sorry.” Looking at him wasn’t an option. The tears were back—with a heaping dose of humiliation.
“It’s okay.”
If it were, he wouldn’t sound so tense. It wasn’t okay. Not at all.
She gripped the rail that ran around the inside of the elevator and glanced his way, searching for something to say.
He was flustered, having a friend go from needy to way needy was pretty good reason. His dark hair was mussed, like he’d run his fingers through it, and he stood stiffly with his hands shoved into his pockets and his jaw muscle bulging as he watched the floor numbers tick down.
She chewed on the inside of her lip. The ding of the elevator made her jump. He gave her a tight smile and waited for her to lead the way out of the building. The sun beat down, but it didn’t stop a fit of shivering that continued even after she huddled in his SUV.
First finding Honor with Owen, finding out about Owen and Honor. Then the will. Honor and Jack. And Matt. And now Graham. Rather, her attacking Graham. If her reactions were skewed, it was because everything had flipped upside down. Everything she thought she knew—she was wrong.
They were almost to her house when he finally broke the silence. “Are you going to go out with him?”
She glanced his way. “What? Who?”
“Are you going to date Rob?” He ran his hands along the steering wheel at the red light.
“Oh.” She frowned. Robert Klein was the last person on her mind right now. “No.”
“Something changed?” he pushed, the muscle in his jaw tightening.
Maybe. Maybe she’d just been fooling herself. Besides, Robert had stayed good friends with Matt until the end. Right now, that was a strike against him. As was his timing. “Who asks someone out at a reading of the will?”