Hands Sentence Examples
He clapped his hands slowly.
Removing his hands from the wall, he placed them on her shoulders, pulling her closer.
His warm hands slid around her waist, pulling her back against him.
Hands on hips, she smiled up at him dryly.
My hands felt every object and observed every motion, and in this way I learned to know many things.
He reached down and took her hands, pulling her into his arms.
She escorted him to wash his hands, talking all the while.
His hands gripped her waist, drawing her close.
It suddenly occurred to me that he might make a delightful pet; so I seized him by the tail with both hands and carried him home.
The man, or boy, couldn't have been more than twenty, yet his steps were as sure as the hands that whirled her around the room.
AdvertisementAlex placed his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her back.
Hands clasped, she prayed fervently, asking God not to let Destiny suffer for what they had done.
He watched her while she wiped her hands, his expression unreadable.
She paused, sucking in a deep breath, and then threw her hands in the air in defeat.
His hands might be soft, but he was capable of dealing with whatever came in his direction.
AdvertisementThere was a soft step behind her, and then his hands were on her waist, his thumbs nimbly working the tense muscles.
His hands worked up her back moving gradually as he massaged every inch of the muscles on either side of her spine.
Carmen avoided his hands, turning to the closet.
Fighting with each other wasn't going to do anything but play into the hands of those instigating the trouble.
He glanced at their joined hands, then at Lisa and Howard in turn.
AdvertisementHe tucked his hands into his pockets and fixed Connie with a hostile stare.
Finally his big hands left her waist and moved to her shoulders, working out the stiffness in them, and then on to the back of her neck.
She knows her life is in his hands; there is no one to protect her from his wrath.
The only thing she does which requires skill with the hands is her work on the typewriter.
Her method might not succeed so completely in the hands of any one else.
AdvertisementWith the photos in her hands, the fertilized eggs were a thing of the past.
Destiny cried harder, clinging to her hands and trying to get back into her arms.
Katie stared at her, hands on hips.
His hands gently pulled her head back and before she comprehended his intent, he kissed her lips.
Lisa tossed Giddon a towel and plunged her hands into the soapy water in the sink.
She quickly replaced the envelope with shaking hands, making sure it was in exactly the same position as she found it.
Even she would have had trouble working with something so little, but his big hands dispensed with the job in short order.
He dropped her hands and grabbed her waist, pulling her close.
The Black God held out his hands.
At present, they win hands down on "less expensive" and put in a decent showing on a couple more factors.
I did nothing but explore with my hands and learn the name of every object that I touched; and the more I handled things and learned their names and uses, the more joyous and confident grew my sense of kinship with the rest of the world.
I remember the surprise and the pain I felt as I noticed that they placed their hands over mine when I talked to them and that they read books with their fingers.
I thrust out my hands to grasp some support, I clutched at the water and at the seaweed which the waves tossed in my face.
I used to sit in my mother's lap all day long and keep my hands on her face because it amused me to feel the motions of her lips; and I moved my lips, too, although I had forgotten what talking was.
I cannot make notes during the lectures, because my hands are busy listening.
Our hearts beat fast, and our hands trembled with excitement, not fear, for we had the hearts of vikings, and we knew that our skipper was master of the situation.
The chessmen are of two sizes, the white larger than the black, so that I have no trouble in following my opponent's maneuvers by moving my hands lightly over the board after a play.
The touch of some hands is an impertinence.
We clapped our hands and shouted;--went away beaming with pleasure, and Teacher and I felt more light of heart than we had for sometime.
She seems to be more nervous than she really is, because she expresses more with her hands than do most English-speaking people.
When she is walking up or down the hall or along the veranda, her hands go flying along beside her like a confusion of birds' wings.
Her untaught, unsatisfied hands destroy whatever they touch because they do not know what else to do with things.
She follows with her hands every motion you make, and she knew that I was looking for the doll.
She pulled on jeans and a sweater, hands shaking as she pulled on socks.
His face was excited as he held out the contents of his hands.
He took her face in his hands and drew her to him, kissing her once again.
She placed her hands on her face and winced as Sofi vacuumed her power as Darian had.
When he was too pissed to think straight, he slammed his hands into the boards covering a store's front door.
He turned away, hands on hips as he surveyed the distant beaches.
Her hands rested on Dusty while her gaze remained on the burning clubhouse.
She shoved the phone and her hands in her pockets to keep them warm as she picked her way through the littered alley.
The Magician piled her coat on top of her table with shaking hands and walked toward the hallway where the restrooms were.
Yully fled the pub for her car and opened the door with cold, fumbling hands.
It still rained, but it wasn't cold that made her hands tremble as she left the car.
Jule sat with his back against the far wall, his lip bloodied, one eye black, and his hands chained above his head to the pipes running from the floor to the ceiling.
If the man didn't freeze down there, he'd die at the hands of her father and his strange delusion that this man wanted her dead.
He set his coat down on the counter, and her hands began to tremble.
Jule pulled his hands free from the handcuffs and tugged the blanket up.
She didn't want to think about it, not when her hands were covered in the blood of her attacker-turned-savior.
His lips turned more demanding, and he took her hands in his.
His hands were rough and calloused, but his touch was light and opened the comforting flow of energy between them.
Their hands were bathed in the same strange haze that surrounded him.
There was interest in his glowing red eyes, and she rested the palms of her hands on the knives at her belt.
Darian held out his as well, and Jule took both their hands, at once bombarded with Bianca's cool energy and Darian's hot energy.
He released their hands, panting.
The vamp snatched the phone from her pocket and stepped away, hands raised.
She shivered despite her lamb's wool coat, her hands plunged deep into pockets that contained weapons.
Jule took her hands in his and rested them on his thigh.
Jule hesitated only a moment longer before he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
She steadied her breathing, swearing to herself that these would be the last to die at her father's hands.
He gathered his power, and an orb of light formed in his hands.
Jule cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her deeply.
They're doctors, Lacy said, looking up from the memo in her hands.
Sofia shrugged the sense of foreboding away and stuffed her hands into her pockets.
Her body was beginning to ache more, from her battered hands to her bruised cheek from when she'd fallen after fainting the night before.
She wrenched away from both men and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to stop the visions.
You couldn't keep your hands off—" "You two know each other?"
He clasped his hands behind his head, giving her an unobstructed view of his body.
He sealed his skin around the tube, forced the flow downward, and placed his hands on her, forcing her body to accept his blood.
Damian rested his hands on her shoulders.
He stood and shook hands with both of them.
He pressed her back against the couch, and she yielded, her hands touching his face, his soft hair, his neck.
She held her head in her hands, tormented by his pain without understanding how she was supposed to help a dead man.
He shook hands with Damian, a small smile on his chiseled features.
Visitors held out their hands like this, Dusty said, indicating his outstretched hand.
The first man was in his prime, and his eyes crinkled in a genuine smile when he clasped hands with Dustin.
He roared and slammed his hands on the desk at the far end of the library, unable to stop the images racing through his mind.
She sat on one of two fold-out chairs in the concrete room, legs crossed and hands in her lap.
Suddenly she was mewling, kneeling beside him, her hands on his thigh and her face soft and beguiling.
He planted his hands on either side of her and lowered his face to her level.
He traced his fingers over the scars on his hands and followed them up his arms, then his chest, then his legs.
Aggravated by her second display of defiance in one night, he crossed to her and planted his hands on either side of her chair, demanding her attention.
He waved her to exit, and she did so, her hands shaking as she opened the door.
His face was as deeply scarred as his hands.
She took his face in her hands the way she had Damian the night he wanted to destroy the world and forced him to meet her gaze.
She touched her hands to his cheeks again.
Sofia pushed Darian's hands away.
She took his face in her hands again, forcing his attention on her.
He placed his hands on Damian's face.
His eyes were closed, his body hunched and hands clenched together.
She placed her hands on his face and pulled him closer, hugging him.
He clasped his hands behind his back.
The Watcher placed both hands on his head.
She cleaned them off with hands that trembled from the confrontation.
He stood at ease before her, unconcerned with teaching her to kill then exposing himself to death at her hands.
What would it be like to run her hands over Darkyn's lean frame the way she had Gabriel's, to feel his sharp teeth nip the delicate skin of her inner thighs and breasts?
Her hands ceased quivering as she ran them across his chest, over his firm shoulders and shapely arms before returning to his chest.
He slid her dress free, his hands moving over her body possessively before he lifted her and carried her to the bed.
The nip of his fangs at her neck, inner thighs and breasts almost drove her over the edge while his hot tongue and hands explored every part of her.
He pinned her hands above her head to keep her still then whispered the command again.
She remembered touching Darkyn's chest and feeling aroused by the idea of his hands on her.
Darkyn's hands were clasped behind his back.
Darkyn caught her hands and pushed them down to her side.
He touched her, trailing his hands down her arms.
Deidre took his face in her hands, hungrily trying to taste more of him as she explored his mouth with fervor.
She touched his neck with trembling hands and felt his pulse.
She glanced back over her shoulder to see Darkyn standing where she left him, hands clasped behind his back, watching her with the cold smile that told her there was more going on than she suspected.
He stood a few meters away, hands clasped behind his back.
Darkyn rested his hands on her hips and drew her into his body.
One of his hands brushed her hip then returned.
He took her arm with one of the hands that had explored every part of her body not two weeks before.
He pushed her hair over one shoulder, and his hands dropped.
He looked away, towards the window, hands on his hips.
The brief pain turned quickly into pleasure intense enough that she began panting, her hands roaming his body.
Deidre put her hands over her mouth to keep from squealing and stepped back to give Wynn room.
His hands skimmed her arms to circle her and rest at the small of her back.
She tugged her hands free and leaned into him, sobbing and shaking, unable to support herself.
She shivered, unaware just how close she'd been to dying by his hands.
His hands moved down her body, and he nudged her head aside.
She took his face in her hands and traced his cheekbones and jawline with her fingers.
It dissipated into black smoke in his hands.
His hands ran down her naked body possessively.
She planted her hands on her hips, tempted but not about to do it, now the she knew he wanted her to.
She pressed her hands together then pulled them apart about a foot.
They inched forward, one behind the other, hands at their sides lest they rub the slime of the rock walls that wept on either side.
She halted and quickly piled five small stones in an arrow pointing back the way they'd come, then wiped her muddied hands on her jeans.
It's out of all our hands.
She strode to the driver's side of the Jeep, hands on her hips, a no-nonsense look on her startlingly attractive face.
She buried her face in her hands, sobbed and shrank down in her seat.
She tucked her hands under her bottom to stop.
You've got more time on your hands than an unemployed whaler.
He wanted to warn the young man to wear a bulletproof vest and keep his hands in his lap for protection.
Even David Dean, although he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut in front of his wife, was forced to cross every finger of both hands.
Cynthia waved her hands.
It's stupid even fighting about any of the land before we make sure that gold-digging bitch doesn't screw us and get her hands on all of it!
We'll take it nice and slow and hold hands.
They crept forward, still holding hands although it was cumbersome to do so in the closeness of the passageway.
Lydia glanced up and down and then took Fitzgerald's face in her hands and kissed him full on the mouth—no glad-to-see-you-grandpa embrace.
Dean willed his hands to remain in his pockets.
The two chatted while Cynthia dried her hands.
Wedding plans were progressing nicely, now totally out of male hands, and Randy's baseball activities were in high gear.
You're in better hands than I was being on Billy's team.
Maybe that's why I want it to stay out of their hands.
The six ladies-in-waiting of the Dean for Sheriff brigade cupped their hands and booed the competition, to the delight of the crowd.
We got him beat hands down.
While Jennifer didn't complain, Dean could see her hands gripping the sides of the vehicle tightly as they moved steadily upward.
Jennifer gasped at the sight and stood, hands on the roll bar, and drank in the works of nature's paintbrush.
Jennifer said as she bent on hands and knees to look closer.
We based the age on when the ownership of the mine changed hands and when it was last worked.
He turned and leaned over the edge, cupping his hands.
Hold the rope in both hands.
He tried to hold the flashlight, but he needed both hands to secure the line.
His hands ached and he tried tying a handkerchief to ease the pressure.
She grabbed it frantically as he put his hands under her arms and pulled her to a standing position, her face only inches from his.
She sat down, clutching the line with both hands.
With his hands free, he unfastened the larger flashlight and pointed it downward, trying to find a path level enough to search further, now absent the security of the totally expended rope.
Dean crawled on his hands and knees, peering under the vehicle for Billy's young girlfriend but there was no one else, only a liquor bottle—unlike its victim, unbroken.
We were so damned settled it was a given we'd be holding hands in our wheel chairs.
She turned and gave him a big hug, wet hands held aloft.
Like I said, keep your fingers crossed—both hands.
How would you like working with a slug who couldn't keep his hands off your boobs every time no one was looking and grabbed your ass whenever he damned well pleased?
Wherever she is, I'd be more comfortable if she were in police hands.
When there was a lady around, Fred O'Connor was always in good hands.
There was no further official word on Martha's whereabouts, but Fred continued to assure the Deans not to worry, saying the girl was in good hands, whatever that meant.
Towels were in short supply, rooms needed quick cleaning, and Cynthia, Maria, and Dean had their hands full.
Dean asked, with a wave of his hands.
Lydia Larkin stood, feet apart, in the classic shooting position, both hands clamped on her smoking gun.
She finished snapping the beans and wiped her hands on the towel.
Darkyn waited beside an open door, hands clasped behind his back in a deceptive display of ease.
Even if slow, her death would spare her an eternity at the hands of a demon with insatiable bloodlust.
Deidre ran her hands over the clothing in the wardrobe, gasping at the sensations.
The thought of human-Deidre in the hands of the Dark One made her feel something … unpleasant.
Deidre studied her hands.
Leave, before I take matters into my own hands.
Was human-Deidre going through the same pain many times a day at Darkyn's hands?
It wasn't coming out the way she practiced it, maybe because Gabriel was sitting close enough that she wanted to lean against him instead of the bed and place his large hands on the parts of her body hidden by clothes.
The thought of letting him run those hands wherever he wanted thrilled the human in her and terrified the former goddess.
Her hands were rubbing her sweater absently, her silver-white hair long and loose, hanging almost to the small of her back.
He hated the idea but understood the necessity, especially after finding the second compass in the hands of demons within a week.
Tymkyn, the best tracker in the underworld, stood behind him, hands clasped and chest heaving.
Gabriel knew they were loyal before he placed hands on their heads based on their body language.
Her hands were on her hips.
Her body was on fire, her hands shaking, her thoughts so scattered, she wasn't able to think.
Those huge hands had started to explore her body in a way that left her feeling feminine, delicate, and willing to let him take control in a way she never permitted him before.
Deidre started down the trail, holding out her hands to the pine trees.
His thick body was at her back, and he shifted close enough to remain in contact while his large hands settled on her arms.
She didn't want to think about the human she'd left in the hands of the demon lord.
The mating laws from the time-before-time were absolute, but what if Darkyn and Gabriel made their own private deal to return the human Gabriel loved and abandon past-Death to the hands of the Dark One?
The graceful Immortal was in the study, hands folded in his hands, as if waiting for him.
Her attention shifted to her hands, and he stared at her as she focused on moving them.
It was a far cry from the woman who ran away screaming from the soul she accidentally touched last week or the goddess who would've commanded him rather than risk getting her hands dirty.
Her eyes were on their clasped hands.
Her hands were soon roaming his body curiously, resting on his jaw and trailing along his neck.
She rested her hands on his chest, but they didn't stay, instead running over the muscles of his chest and around to his back.
Everything from the texture of his skin to the heat of his hands branding her was heaven to one unaccustomed to the sensuality of her world.
Dozing after his insatiable passion, she roused herself when one of Gabriel's hands moved down her body.
He had no idea what she'd been through the past few days at the hands of Darkyn.
He took her arm with one of the hands that had explored every part of her body – or the body he thought was hers - not even a few hours before.
He squeezed her hands.
Her hands left his.
She covered her face with her hands and cried.
He clasped his hands behind his back and drew a deep breath.
Gabriel asked, hands on the hilts of his weapons.
Taking her face in his hands, his thumbs stroked the soft skin on her cheeks.
He gently disentangled his arms from her hands and gripped her waist, pulling her close.
After a moment, she stepped forward and held out her hands to Destiny.
I know, you think he had his hands full raising me, and I'm sure he did, but if I had let him, he would have told me which side to chew my breakfast on.
She slowly slid her hands up his chest, enjoying the feel of the smooth muscles beneath his shirt.
Finally he lifted his hands and cradled her face in them, the thumbs gently caressing her cheeks.
His warm hands dropped to her waist and slid to the back, pulling her gently against him.
She closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest cupping her hands over his.
He put his hands on her shoulders and his troubled gaze met hers.
His hands slid down her arms and his palms touched hers warmly as his fingers laced through hers.
Instantly he was on top of her, holding her hands down.
Alex exited the stall wiping his hands on the towel and grinning.
In that moment, she squirmed from his hands and screamed again, scrambling to reach the cell phone on the floor.
The hands that still covered the entry sight were bloody.
She covered his hands with hers and looked into his eyes.
Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the shaking hands.
At the house, she washed her hands, watching the water turn red and swirl down the drain.
She placed her hands on the window and leaned her forehead against the cool glass.
When Carmen continued to stare at her, she threw her hands in the air.
Burying her face in her hands, she let the sobs rule.
Nothing felt right, so she decided to tuck her hands behind her back and simply lean against the wall.
Finally he reached out and took her waist in his hands, drawing her back against him.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back, quickly sucking in a breath as his warm hands moved inside her dress and gently surrounded her waist.
When Carmen didn't respond, she threw her hands in the air and rolled her eyes.
Are you going to let him slip out of your hands or are you going to do something?
Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he rubbed his face with his hands finally taking his eyes off her face.
Then he ran both hands through his hair.
Finally he lowered his hands and leaned forward to type.
When he reached down and took her hands, she stood.
When his hands found her waist and drew her close, passion came without warning, completely consuming her body and soul.
Alex, staring at his bloody hands after the man ran out the door.
She shoved her hands into her pockets and stared at the bear.
Deidre rubbed her hands on her legs.
Instead of seating himself on the traditional doctor's stool, Dr. Wynn sat beside her on the table, hands folded across one knee.
Her hands trembled as she got dressed.
Holding the bill made her hands sweat and her heart beat faster.
Daniela folded her hands in her lap, her irritation at him replaced by interest.
Rhyn threw up his hands in surrender.
His hands shook as he scooped them into a bowl.
She wanted to feel his large hands on her body and to find out what it was about him that made her feel like he was the only real person she'd ever met.
Her hands fumbled with the keys three times before she managed to unlock the door.
They kept Logan's baseball gear there, and she felt the sudden need to have a bat in her hands.
Either she was dead and didn't know it, or she was close enough to take matters into her own hands.
Reaching the wall, Deidre ignored the scrape of concrete against her hands and knees as she clambered on top.
The china chattered in her trembling hands.
Deidre slumped and held her head up with her hands.
She sat as far from the opening as she could, brandy clenched in shaking hands.
She held her face in her hands.
The hands spun several times while the icons around its edges glowed, danced and finally settled back in place.
He plucked it out of Gabe's hands and held it up.
This part of his life was in the hands of Fate, who would probably be pleased.
Furious, he took matters into his own hands.
Kiki's eyes settled on her shaking hands.
She pressed the meat of her hands to her eyes to keep from crying again.
His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him.
She'd run her hands over his perfect body, marveling at the smooth skin stretched over solid muscle.
Deidre wiped her hands on her jeans and sat up straight.
She pushed the door closed with her hip, a silver tray of cookies and snacks in her hands.
Deidre's mouth was dry and her hands shaking, but she nodded.
His hands were large, his palms flat.
It was so easy to agree and sink into his strength, let the scent of dark chocolate work its way into her skin as his hands moved over her.
Gabriel cupped her face in his large hands and tilted it up.
His hands traveled down her arms and settled on her hips, drawing them against his.
Gabriel held her gaze a moment longer before his hands dropped, and he walked away.
Her hands shook, and she dropped the keys.
She still felt his hands branding her body.
Her hands were sweating as she accepted it.
Her hands were shaking too hard for the wine.
Wynn stretched across the distance to grasp it as it started to slide from her hands.
He set down his wine and settled his hands on her shoulders.
He was left feeling dirty, like he was leading her on with enough encouragement to keep her from taking matters into her own hands but not so much that her tumor grew.
Her body began to shake, and her hands were clammy.
Another image flashed, and Deidre gasped, covering her face with her hands in an effort to block it.
Deidre braced her hands against his chest, tunnel-vision forming.
Deidre lifted the dress with trembling hands.
In darkness again, he dropped his hands.
He looked like death with his dark hair and cold eyes, his panther-like physique, and gloved hands.
She went to the kitchen and made him a cup in silence, glancing at him a few times as he propped his head up with both his hands.
Near hyperventilating, she sat heavily on the couch and clutched her head with her hands.
Of all things, his gloved hands scared her the most.
Her hands shook as she made tea.
He sat with his hands on his thighs and his eyes straight ahead, like a statue chiseled in Hell itself.
But an immortal's mate was off hands.
He held out his hands.
She flipped both hands front and back and looked at the blood-soaked towel and the sleeve of her sweater.
Her hands both worked.
He snatched both hands in one of his, balancing her with his body as he placed his other hand against her forehead.
She pried glass free with shaking hands between sobs, then set her foot down and did the same for the other.
Gloved hands snatched her.
Lankha's hands were covered in what felt like soft, feathery, cool micro-suede.
She didn't let herself think too much about what it might be, how she ended up in Hell, or why she'd just let some otherworldly creature with fuzzy hands cut off her clothes.
Lankha's hands remained on her ribs for a long, long time.
He took her hand gently in his feathery, cool hands and pressed a finger to the inside of her forearm.
Pale hands draped through bars two cells down from the beast.
Don't stick your hands outside the cage.
The pale man was tall and lean, and he hung his hands again through the bars of his cell.
Jared exclaimed, hanging his hands through the bars in his cell.
The healer's soft hands took away her headache, then the throbbing in her neck, and worked on the other parts of her body until she felt whole again.
His hands appeared through the cell bars.
Hands darted from the cells to swipe at them, and she saw why the robed man kept to the center of the corridor.
She raised her fist to lay a right hook to his throat, beginning to panic when the lightning arced between his hands.
The ground was rocky beneath her hands and knees, the air chilled.
She tried to shove him off, but he snagged her hips and dragged her down, pinning her hands over her head.
One of the pens in his hands snapped, and she took a step back.
She was panicking, recalling the horrors of the hours at Sasha's hands.
Grass tickled her hands, a chilled wind nipped her neck, and the scents from her vision intensified until she was near gagging.
Kiki clasped his hands and offered a small bow.
She died at Rhyn's hands.
I'm so sick of this whole better-than-thou attitude you all have! she snapped, facing him with her hands on her hips.
Her hands roamed his chest and back.
She forced herself not to cover her tattoo with her hands as she followed her sister to the second floor, where the private rooms were.
Furious and terrified, Katie planted both her hands on his arm to push it away with no success.
His hands were hot on her hips and his body blocked the cold wind whipping up the cliff.
Sasha looked over her, uninterested, and both her hands went to her throat at the memory of what he.d done to her in Hell.
Her hands shook as she stood there discussing her own death with a creature that resembled the Grim Reaper.
Rhyn, whose large hands all but swallowed the tea cup, had made an attempt to be civilized.
She crawled on her knees to Toby, heart hammering and hands shaking as she rolled him onto his back.
She stood and crossed to the scared creature and took one of his soft hands.
I want revenge for my daughter.s treatment at Sasha.s hands, and I want the vial or the girl.
Lankha worked his magic with his micro suede-covered hands and gentle touch.
Lankha was huddled in a corner with his hands over his head.
Jade.s hands were sweaty as he drew a machete.
Toby was awake and sitting, fascinated by Lankha.s soft hands.
Rhyn gave a nod, hands clenching at the thought of facing off against some demons.
She stared at the discovery in her hands.
He wiped his bloodied hands on his shirt and trotted down the hall.
He.d give anything for the vial and the feel of her blood on his hands!
She couldn.t see the Sanctuary through her blurry eyes, just the blue of water and the tan sand beneath her hands.
Katie planted both her hands on his arm to push it away.
His people's hope had turned to desperation in the hands of the Yirkin when every sun-cycle passed and there was no nishani.
She tucked the creature in her hands under one arm and left the small room for a long corridor in similar dark grey which glowed more brightly from indistinguishable light sources.
She sat very still on the dark grey bed, her legs folded and hands in her lap, and stared at Evelyn.
Three massive warriors escorted a fourth whose hands were bound.
Two hands caught her.
Unable to understand or control the strange sensations, she tried to help right herself as the hands gripping her ribcage steadied her.
The hot energy circulating through her body came from the large, olive-hued hands touching her.
The heat of his large hands made her feel as if she wore no clothing.
Her gaze fell to the bound hands of the man who'd caught her.
And yet, she still felt his hands on her body, smelled his scent, saw the vision from their touch.
She caught herself with her hands before she did a face-plant on the ground and tried to catch her breath.
It might take all three sisters to rein her in, if even their hands were firm enough.
Two of his sisters were waiting, composed and serene in their dark clothing with hands clasped in front of them.
Nishani took the hands of his youngest sister, Talal, and began to speak, animated compared to the serene women of his world.
Her tones rose and fell, her hands and arms animated.
She sat on the table and buried her face in her hands, grateful and relieved to be reconnected with Kiera, even if indirectly.
She perched on the edge of one table, fidgeting hands in her lap and bright features alert as she focused on some point on the screen.
Kiera lowered her hands and wiped sweat from her forehead.
Both hands rested in her lap as she studied it for two full rotations.
Nishani followed and gripped his forearm with both of her small, soft hands.
I draw and paint, she said, flustered as his gaze stayed on the drawing of them holding hands.
He was more interested in them holding hands and the look on her face, one of admiration.
A hood made of rough material was thrown over her head and her hands bound before she could scream.
Her hands shook as she manipulated the configuration to arm the shields around it.
The pod stabilized upside down, and she was crammed into half of the pod, unable to move with her hands tied.
She shifted with a grimace and looked down at the brush of grass against her hands.
More tears rose, and she tugged at her hands, furious he'd even thought to cuff her!
She pushed herself up and shielded her face with her bound hands.
One took her hands while another shined the glowing orb on her bindings.
She shoved his hands away, clinging to him.
He's got a bad space battle on his hands.
She held it with two hands and retreated to the fountain, unable to shake the instinct that said the dagger on the fountain was the same.
Her hands shook as she gripped the heavy stone dagger, and she leaned against the fountain.
He cupped her cheek with one of his large hands, and she was embarrassed to feel tears gather.
She sat across from Evelyn, who continued to give her the odd look, and clasped her hands together hard to keep them from shaking as they took off.
Her hands were by her sides, turned out, as if offering benediction for what she had done, as if to say, peace at last.
He was talking to Edith Shipton who was nodding and biting her fingernails, when she wasn't wringing her hands.
Edith looked up, rubbed a sleeve across her eyes to dry them, then brushed her hands down the white dress, smoothing the fabric against her legs.
Donnie looked at the impressive impalement and Dean started to show it to him but Claire grabbed it from his hands.
Most women were putty in the old man's hands, but Claire Quincy had pushed all the wrong buttons and short-circuited his good nature.
Cynthia crossed over to her husband, took his face in her hands and kissed him, hard on the lips.
Cynthia said, from her hands and knees.
Shipton held up his hands, mimicking surrender.
When Dean rushed to the kitchen, he found Cynthia, her hands to her face, in tears, grease covering the floor.
Dean decided to take matters into his own hands.
Most of Bird Song's other guests remained, as requested, in their own rooms but Ryland hung around the kitchen, sharing a snack of take-out pizza with Donnie while Edith sat nearby, wringing her hands and looking petrified.
With loving hands, dear Joshua, I did the same.
Dean turned at the sound of the shop door opening to see Sheriff Jake Weller standing, hands on hips, staring down at him.
Her hands were by her side, turned out, tranquilly, as if to say, peace at last.
She was dressed in a tattered coat, hands in her lap, sitting as nervously as an immigrant awaiting deportation.
With shaking hands, he fumbled, affixing what were certainly not approved knots, but he tied enough of them to be confident they would hold.
Dean said through gritted teeth, his hands beginning to ache against the strain of the tightened rope.
Dean knotted his rope with trembling hands as he looked down on the man nearly directly under him.
Unconsciousness must have paid its call before hands secured him and lowered him to the waiting rescuers below.
Cowering in the opposite corner, sat a young lady rocking, with her face in her hands.
He held his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes, trying to make sense of something that defied all logic.
He felt hands on his shoulders as a voice broke through the madness.
When she turned away, he blocked the view with his hands and prayed she had done the same to avoid witnessing his savagery.
He held her face in his hands.
He clapped his hands together, lifted a decanter of liquor and began pouring.
Sarah gasped and clasped her hands to her chest as Frederick lowered his head.
The Exemplar folded his hands, contemplating the request, then turned and walked to the front of the dais.
Jackson took her face in his hands and found her eyes.
The human righted himself and held his head in both hands, shaking.
Jackson rose and held her hands.
He held her face in his hands and kissed her again, this time more urgently.
She put her hands on his chest as he started to kiss her neck.
She was already putty in his hands.
He squatted down beside the bed and held her hands.
Jackson leaned back a little and clasped his hands behind his head.
He put his hands up in surrender.
Sarah stood, took his face in her hands, and kissed him on the forehead.
He put his head in his hands.
When he had finished, Sarah waited a moment then brought her hands together.
He ran both hands through his hair, exasperated.
She jumped up and down clapping her hands.
She clapped her hands again.
She put both her hands over her chest and exclaimed, "How romantic!"
He squinted and folded his hands in prayer.
After eating, they walked some more, holding hands.
She slapped his chest with both hands and laughed, "That's just mean!"
He took her hands, kissed one and said, "Lead the way, Legs."
She approached him and held his hands.
There is no greater joy for an artist than to know their work is in the hands of someone who truly understands it.
He threw up his hands in defeat and disappeared upstairs.
Sarah jumped up, took both her hands and screeched, "Come with me!"
She walked to the music cabinets and ran her hands across the top.
So, when are you going to show me what you've really got in those hands?
She covered her eyes with her hands and buried her face in his chest with a groan.
He put his hands up.
She began wringing her hands.
She took Sarah's hands, probably thanking her for attending.
She dropped Sarah's hands and looked up, spotting Jackson.
He held her head in his hands, locked eyes with her and commanded, "Your favorite color is red."
Jackson sat away from her and motioned with his hands to put her feet up.
She made her way to him and put both hands in his hair.
She clapped her hands.
Jackson lay back with his hands behind his head, replaying the night, still hardly believing it was real.
Embracing her from behind, he untied her robe and slid his hands around her waist.
Jackson held his hands to her face.
She faced him and held his hands.
He inhaled deeply and his hands started to shake.
He steadied himself with his hands on his knees for a moment, panting; then opened a bottle and started to drink, fast; desperate to find oblivion.
Turning to leave, her hands clasped to her face in horror upon noticing the painting.
Jackson lingered in the shower; bracing his hands on the wall, letting the water run on the back of his neck.
He didn't have a bottle in his hands.
She sat on her hands staring into the pond.
She put her face in her hands to hide the despair it would show.
Jackson folded his hands.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rounded his shoulders.
After enjoying a leisurely lunch at a restaurant on the water, they walked barefoot on the beach holding hands.
He took her face in his hands.
Jackson took her hands.
Elisabeth held his face in her hands.
You have magic in these hands.
Then he smelled it and had to steady himself with both hands on the counter.
She held her face in her hands and shook her head.
Jackson put both hands up in surrender and chuckled.
He stepped behind Elisabeth's stool, placed his hands on her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head.
He cupped her face with his hands.
Jackson plopped down and put his head in his hands.
When he donned the wolf's head, she slapped her hands to the sides of her face in mock horror.
She grabbed his hands and squeezed so hard he almost fell to his knees.
Jackson noticed heaviness in Elisabeth's eyes, so took her hands.
Jackson noticed the tremor in Connor's hands, so poured him a scotch.
She held his face in her hands.
She slapped his chest with both hands.
Jackson had started a fire and stood with his hands on the mantle, watching the flames.
Elisabeth stood behind Jackson, and held her hands on his shoulders.
She raked both hands through his hair.
She held her hands over her eyes.
Elisabeth yelled from the kitchen, "Sit down, shut up and keep your hands to yourself."
He held his hands up and obeyed.
She danced around him, running her hands over him, at times tickling his ear with a sexy whisper.
With a husky breath, she dropped to his lap, dove both hands into his hair and pulled his head back, planting a hard kiss on his lips.
They brought a wing chair from the living room into the studio, and Elisabeth positioned him sitting back with one ankle on the other knee, his hands resting on the arms of the chair.
They shook hands and introduced themselves.
Miriam folded her hands.
She brought both hands to her face, realizing the diamond was theirs and then fell into his arms.
Miriam pursed her lips then threw her hands up.
She fisted her hands on her hips.
She put her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him in to touch noses.
Jackson ran both his hands through her fur, checking for injury.
He patted her with both hands.
He put his hands up and leaned backed.
She brought her hands to her forehead.
He held her face in his hands, searching her eyes.
Jackson turned the camera on, placed it in front of her and stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders, feeling tension in them.
He held his hands up.
He squatted down in front of Sarah with his hands on either side of her.
Elisabeth held her head in her hands, slowly shaking it.
She put her hands on his chest and giggled, "I have work to do, you need to stop distracting me."
Well, you certainly have one on your hands with this.