Gloves Off Novels & Stories

I didn't open my lips. I reached out with my left hand, my small, pigment-smeared fingers hovering bare millimeters from the clean, black tactical fabric of his sleeve. I didn't touch him—remembering the strict parameters of the truce—but I let him feel the warmth of my skin, the raw, defiant proximity of my hand against his cold armor. I looked down at the stainless-steel tray on the floor, then looked back up into his severe, ruthless features, and gave him a single, slow, and devastatingly calm shake of my head.

"You feeling okay?" "Fine. Just tired." I stand up, and my robe falls open at the thigh. I catch Caleb's eyes dropping to the exposed skin, just for a fraction of a second, before he looks away. "I'll be out later."

“I may not recognize every face, but I know movements. I know smells. I know the cadence of a voice, the weight of a name. Rossa is definitely not Agata but I choose to make her Agata.” For a flicker of a moment, Giovanni’s smirk falters, doubt flashing across his face. But it vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced with a mock surrender. “Fine,” he says lightly, raising his hands. “Fine. But what’s with the gloves?” I glance down at my hands, clad in black leather gloves. They’re practical, surgical even; meant for operations. “I’m preparing,” I reply curtly. Giovanni scoffs, flicking the remains of his cigar to the ground. “Preparing? Brother, we failed.”

"To celebrate how far we have come." My heart raced with sweet anticipation—we'd explored this world together, grown into it, and it felt like the perfect way to mark our victory. "Yes," I whispered, smiling as I kissed him softly. "Let's celebrate everything." He stripped my clothes away slowly, teasingly, his hands lingering on my breasts, cupping them fully, thumbs brushing my nipples until they hardened. He secured the blindfold first, then the leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles, clipping my arms above my head and spreading my legs wide, the restraint familiar and thrilling.

The plan worked, and the poison was deflected. Lilia immediately frowned. She looked to the referee. “She can’t wear gloves! That’s cheating!” It wasn’t, but the referee seemed unsure. He looked to wear the commission was sitting. Even though I knew Ruby would rush to help, I didn’t want to drag this out. I had only needed the gloves for the handshake, not the competition itself. “It’s fine,” I said, releasing Lilia’s hand. “I’ll take them off now.” The referee seemed relieved, but Lilia didn’t.

But time is of the essence. “As long as she doesn’t have a wolf and isn’t squeamish. I don’t care.” I told Markus before I told him to leave. I dropped my scalpel into the boiling water and laid down the only pair of clean gloves I had with me. I grimaced, as they weren’t even sterile ones.

I undo the strap of my glove with my teeth. He inhales sharply, sucking in his lower lip between his teeth. “You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” I blink at him, then the gloves, only pausing to think about my actions for a few seconds. Without any other word, I turn around, letting the gloves drop to the floor. His chuckle reaches me by the door. “Don’t forget, Off the record resumes.” I tell him before slipping out of the room. Inside the b=master’s bedroom, I rest against the door. My heart is still very loud.

Gloves. My heart pounded. “Take off your hoodie,” he said. I hesitated. “You okay?” “I’m just… scared.” He leaned in close, resting a hand over mine. “I’m not going to hurt you, Lana. Unless you want me to.” My stomach flipped. I took off the hoodie, leaving me in a soft tank top. He guided me into the chair, gently pushing my hair aside. His gloved fingers brushed behind my ear. “This spot’s gonna sting,” he said. “But just for a second.”

Her dark blue dress is elegant, but I can't miss the elbow length gloves as she shakes my hand. “Pardon, my gloves, child,” she gulps, tears still threatening to fall from her eyes. “I wear them so that I don’t unintentionally have a vision while greeting someone. It is especially inconvenient when meeting new people, though I do think you could handle it,” she continues with a soft smile curling the corners up ever so slightly.

I reached out to push the strand of hair that had fallen across ger forehead and left eye, but I stopped, recalling the blood on my gloves. I felt disgusted at that instant even for thinking about touching her with my filthy, blood-painted hands. But damn it, I couldn't sleep another night without feeling her against my bare hands. I slowly ripped the blood-soaked gloves off my hand and carefully dropped them on the ceramic floor. I raised my hand towards her again, and the tremble was almost laughable. I didn't hesitate to squeeze Attiwood's injured arm earlier, but the mere thought of touching Ezabella without my gloves on made me want to fall to my knees.