Inspired by James
Angelís hand was large, strong, like him. She could hide in it. Cool fingers curled over hers, she forgot the pain of the day. It almost made her feel like a little girl again. Protected.
Rileyís was hand was big too. Sometimes his grip was firm, sometimes tentative. Sometimes he tried to squeeze too hard, but she was stronger, and it didnít hurt. She noticed when she held her palm to his that their middle fingers curved in the opposite direction. In many ways, his hand looked like Angelís. Warmer, though. Somehow, it didnít seem so protective.
She was surprised by his hands. During sex, their fingers would intertwine, and she almost couldnít tell where his began and hers ended. She only held her palm to his while he slept, not willing him to be aware of such an intimate gesture. She was struck by how small his were. Palm to palm, his fingers barely peeked over the tops of hers. Something about it seemed right, but she would never admit it. Not to him.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, holding her hands palm to palm. Shifted the right a bit, so the top of the middle finger peeked over the top of the left. Intertwined them and squeezed, staring. She wondered if another hand would ever again fit so well with hers.