Please enjoy this Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian whaling romance, HOLD FAST – available now wherever fine books are found.
Turner took Evelyn’s wrists in his hands. Evelyn, startled, looked down at the point of contact, but made no move to resist. Truth told, he had no wish to pull away from his grip. Turner had a firm hand, sure and supportive. A touch such as Evelyn hadn’t felt in many years. He watched passively as Turner rearranged his limbs.
“Your left hand will settle onto the lady’s waist,” said Turner, placing Evelyn’s hand in accordance with his words.
Evelyn’s breath caught in his throat as his palm met Turner’s jacket. Instinct encouraged him to squeeze, to feel the flesh beneath the cloth, to pull Turner close. He ignored it.
“And your right hand,” said Turner, going on as if no untoward thoughts raced through Evelyn’s mind, “takes the lady’s left,” and here he shifted his grip, his hand palm-to-palm with Evelyn’s in a gentle hold—such soft hands, “and holds it aloft. Not down by her waist, nor up over her head, but in line with her shoulders. Allow for a slight bend of the elbow. Do not pull her arm straight out. Just hold it, thusly. You will look the lady in the eye.”
With difficulty, Evelyn tore his eyes away from the sight of Turner’s hand in his own and met Turner’s gaze.
“You will not watch your feet,” Turner continued. “Nor will you allow your glance to settle upon anything between her feet and her eyes.”
Turner’s gaze was steady as the tides—and Evelyn was just as powerless to resist its pull.
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