Gloves Off Novels & Stories

I ѕау without thіnkіng. Shе stands uр and рullѕ thе раntѕ ѕhе’ѕ wеаrіng dоwn her lеgѕ and соmрlеtеlу off, and rеасhеѕ to tаkе mіnе оff tоо. Thе ѕwеаtеr ѕhе’ѕ wеаrіng соmеѕ off tоо, аnd I zoom іn оn hеr раntіеѕ.

Another gentle knock snapped her back into reality. ‘I’m okay, Flynn. Just washing up.’ She yelled as she tugged off her gloves, one after the other and dumped them inside the sink. Slowly, her hands moved, as if of their own accord, beneath the water. She scrubbed her hands thoroughly. The gloves came next, the black gloves had smudges of grime on it. She washed them just as thoroughly as she had washed her hands.

“I’m not going anywhere unless you get a mask.” He rolls his eyes skyward. Then lazily, he grips the hem of the dark turtleneck and pulls it up over his nose and lips. He raises a brow towards my direction when my gaze flattens. Seriously? “Satisfied, Omega?” I flit a look towards his bare hands. His brows furrow, and I hear him growl lowly under his breath as he pushes up from the ground. Then he moves towards the cupboard near the door, sweeping a pair of dark gloves off the shelves. He pulls them on like it’s the most unnecessary thing in the world.

I jerked back, cradling my hand, glaring up at him. “Now that you’ve graduated from errand girl to something slightly more interesting, let’s get one thing straight, Freckles. Rule number one: never, under any circumstances, handle sensitive material with your bare hands. Gloves. Always. You want to make sure your fingerprints are nowhere they could come back to bite you. Clear?” I nodded, biting back the retort that burned on my tongue. His eyes drilled into mine, making it clear that failure wasn’t an option, and any misstep would be paid for in blood.

I won’t be as clumsy now. She reached for the two pots of water, intending to pour them, but Jamison swiftly intervened, grabbing her arm. ‘What?’ ‘These gloves are for you,’ Jamison produced a pair of men’s gloves from his coat pocket and handed them to her. Callie hesitated, her gaze flickering to him. ‘Don’t you need them too?’ Jamison locked eyes with her, his voice steady. ‘You need them more than I do. Don’t overthink it, Callie. These gloves are solely to protect your fingers from further frostbite. Nothing more.’

He complimented me and tried to pry my hands away from my face. I had my hair in a messy bun as usual, while my body was simply clad in a white graphic tee and blue jeans bum shorts, beach vibes giving? "At least give the nails a chance." I told him as I flexed my pretty nails in his face. "They are horrible." Jason commented with feigned disgust.

I mistakenly or not spilled a glass of wine on his gloves. 💫💫 JAKE 💫💫 This girl really will be the end of me. My gloves are all stained and what a good day to not have any spare ones. "I'm so sorry...." She apologized and tried to clean it up but why does it look like she is holding back her laughter. Did she do that intentionally? "I'll help you take ‘em off" She offered. "why?" "they're dirty!" "I'll do it myself!" I took off the gloves and disposed them in the nearest waste bin.

Ezekiel smiled and pursed his lips as He reached out and took Brandon's left wrist in his hand, then he lifted it up between them "What...if I asked you to take off this glove...just one?" In a split second the dull stare was transformed into an annoyed glare as Brandon snatched his hand away from Ezekiels hold and shook his head. "No...The gloves stay on Leopard." "Okay...What...about taking off everything else?" Ezekiel hissed leaning stepping in to his space and letting his eyes drift down Brandon's body then back up. It was anything but covert, but seeing as he was mostly teasing

"Jaxson, the team is right outside—" "Shut up, Vance," Jaxson growled, his voice a low, gravelly friction that vibrated directly against Liam’s chest. He didn't drop his hands. He ripped his heavy gloves off with his teeth, letting them drop to the floor, and pressed his bare, calloused palms flat against the concrete on either side of Liam’s head, pinning the skater in place.

And Callum stepped off the last step. They sat on the hood of his car. Side by side, close enough that their arms touched along the full length from shoulder to elbow, the specific unhurried contact of people who had stopped pretending proximity was accidental. Neither of them moved away. The street was quiet. The streetlamp above them was doing the amber October thing and the night was cold enough that being outside required a reason. They both had a reason.