Your Hand And Mine Novels & Stories

I feel sorry for my husband. I reached for his hands and placed my fingers in the spaces between his fingers. Our hands looked perfect together. As I stared at our intertwined hands, it was as if I didn't want to take my hand from his hand. I don't want to destroy the best scenery I was staring at now.

Then his hand found mine in the dark, not grasping, just moving until it found what it was looking for and resting there. I held on.

All I knew was that I couldn't look away from her. Just as I was about to speak, she did something unexpected. She reached out and touched my hand. It was the lightest of touches, but it sent a shock through my body. My skin tingled, and I felt a rush of adrenaline. I looked down at our hands, intertwined. Her fingers were delicate and pale, like porcelain. My hand felt rough and calloused in comparison. But somehow, it felt right, like we were two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found each other.

And when his hand reached out, slow, careful, fingers brushing mine like an offer I didn’t know how to refuse, it broke something loose in my chest. I didn’t pull away. “People leave,” I said. “Or they die. Or they forget how to stay.” His fingers curled around mine. Not tight. Not possessive. Just there. A quiet promise in the dark. “I won’t.” Two words. Simple. Steady. They shouldn’t have mattered so much. But they did. Because no one had said them in years. I watched our hands where they met. His rougher. Mine trembling, just a little. I wondered if he noticed. I wondered if he cared.

Then Julian reached across the table and took my hand. I looked at our hands. His over mine, the Gulf light catching the lines of them. I turned my hand over and held his.

He holds out his hand to me and I take it, because why not? I'm going to enjoy every bit of what this night has to offer because when it's all over, I'll be going back to my prison. Dan's hand finds mine and his thumb traces soft circles on my palm as he holds me close. In that touch, I feel a sense of belonging, as if our hearts are orchestrating a symphony of their own, playing a melody that belongs solely to us.

He said, waving his hands in the air with an annoying arrogant smirk tugging on his lips. "Oh!, honey trust me I dare not forget any memory with you since they are all nightmares to me." I retorted with my hands akimbo," that's why this time, there's no turning back." I added as I picked up my phone walking past him but this time he held my arm pulling me back.

It had not been present in this clearing since the morning we walked back through the trees with our hands joined. He reached out. His hand covered mine where it rested against the stone, warm and unhesitating, and I turned my hand over beneath his and his fingers closed around mine. "Whatever Cassian tells you tomorrow," he said. "Whatever Victor tries to do with it after." His thumb moved across my knuckles. "You are not navigating any of it alone." I looked at our joined hands. Then up at his face. "I know," I said. He leaned closer. The clearing held its breath.

We both stare at the ceiling, in the dark, as our hands seek each other. They inch toward each other. It's a foreboding trip. I lay my hand on his open one. It flinched back in the slightest, I flinch back slightly too, but that hand reaches out intertwining with mine. I breathe out. Staring in the dark, I smile slightly. I did something very wrong today. I didn't mean to. But... This hand holding mine, makes it okay for now. It makes everything okay. "Wait, please! I-"

When I hold your hand, it gives me a feeling that you are mine. Not as if I own you, but you are mine. You belong to me. Are you getting me? It’s like me holding something that I hold so dear. And it’s not to show others that you are mine. No. I love to hold your hand more when it’s just two of us alone. It’s about me feeling that you belong to me. Even when the grip is feather light, I know that you are my closest. Even when I squeeze your hand tightly, it’s the most delicate moment I feel. There is just something so intimate about our palms coming together and our fingers locking in. And I love that smooth caressing of your thumb on my hand. It feels like you telling me – I love you too. A