Entwined Fingers Novels & Stories

His constant nagging was exhausting. She stood up from the swing, but her shirt got caught on the rope. She stumbled, almost falling—. But Gabrielle was fast. He caught her just in time, pulling her close. Their bodies pressed together, and her hands landed on his arm. For a few seconds, they just stared at each other.

"Well, in that case, how can I say no?" Without thinking, I grab his hand and pull him out of the booth with me. Raw emotion swims through me with the way his fingers curl around mine. Our fingers remain entwined as we weave our way through the dancing crowd towards the pool table. Maybe it is the alcohol and the slight head change I already have going on, but his hand around mine feels like the most natural thing in the world.

But I clenched my fist tightly. Just what was this place? I was sure they weren't my real parents, but they wore my parents' faces. Everything was so twisted and bizarre. What was I supposed to do? At dinner, I found a finger on my plate, a shiny platinum ring wrapped around it, strangely familiar. Cold sweat ran down my back when I saw the human finger appearing on the dinner table. I set the finger aside and forced myself to eat the pasta as I tried not to throw up, one small bite at a time. But with every mouthful, I could feel my stomach churning.

A command, but the kind that comes from the same place as a request. His fists opened. His fingers uncurled under hers — slowly, one by one, the way a fist opens when it has been closed so long the muscles have forgotten the alternative shape. Her fingers slid between his. Their hands interlaced — her knuckles against his palms, his knuckles against her palms, the heat of two circulatory systems meeting through skin.

My hands gave out, and I flailed in the water, almost choking again. He hurriedly caught me, and I threw my arms around him, holding him tightly like a koala. When I wrapped my legs around his waist, I realized how quickly my heart was pounding. My mind turned into a pile of goo, and I lost the ability to think. Before I could process the situation, he pushed my bikini top aside and buried his face in my mounds. I instinctively grabbed his head and threw mine back, revealing my slender neck. I moaned wantonly.

He knew I needed something from him, and he was using that to his advantage. He has always been known as a man that uses one weakness to his advantage, I am not surprised he hasn't changed. As I gazed at him, I couldn't help but notice the familiar contours of his face, the sharp jawline, the piercing eyes. But my attention was drawn to his hands, specifically his ring finger. I had expected to see an expensive ring, a symbol of his commitment to the woman he had left me for. But to my surprise, his finger was bare. No engagement ring. and no mark of a ring being there, it's obvious they have never been a ring there, I felt a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Shock, curiosity, and a hint o

his hand slowly slide down from my wrist until our fingers intertwined. My breath catches. Warmth spread through my entire body where our hands touched, sending a sharp shiver racing down my spine. My eyes widened. Having me sit in his lap was one thing. Holding my hand...that was something else entirely. I stared down at our intertwined fingers before slowly lifting my gaze back to his face. He wasn't looking at our hands. His eyes never left mine and then, without saying a single word, his fingers tightened around my hand just enough for me to realize he wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon.

He looked almost pleased, "good." After rowing, we wandered along a quiet walking trail lined with tall trees, at some point, without either of us mentioning it, our hands brushed. Once. Twice. Then his little finger hooked around mine. A silent question. I answered by intertwining my fingers with his, neither of us said anything, we didn't need to. Our hands stayed together for the rest of the walk. It felt… natural. As though they'd belonged there all along. That evening we returned to his apartment.

Large hands looped around her waist and urged her to fit closely to the cradle of his lean hips. Long fingers spanned the swell of her hips and dipped low to the base of her spine. Automatically, her hands found his forearms. Hair roughened flesh warmed her fingertips. She tilted her head back to look up at his tanned face. His eyes gleamed down at her as his fingers etched a heated trail up her backbone. One big hand slid beneath her long, tumbled curls to encircle her slender neck. A callused thumb rested momentarily on the throbbing pulse in her throat.

They were holding hands, looking very intimate! All the feeling of eagerness and joy were like a fish-bone stuck in her throat, hurting her badly. Her eyes were sore and swollen, and she couldn't believe what she was seeing. She watched them walk into the building hand in hand. Renee stood still until they disappeared from her sight. It took her a while to recover, and her whole body was stiff. She suddenly felt cold. Was it because he had another woman that Dante didn’t contact her? Renee trembled and stumbled crossing the road.