Where Do Broken Hearts Go? | Unexpected Series Book One

Chapter 29: Battle Scars and Tickety-Boo's

A/N: thanks so much as usual for all the reads, votes, comments and messages!  It means so much that you love this as much as I love writing it!  Hopefully you find this chapter all lovey and cutesy xo

Beth's POV

Harry turns his head and catches the end of my finger playfully between his teeth before he lets it go.

"I can see that now," he replies, a sheepish look on his face.

I turn on my side to face him and he does the same.

The covers are completely off us though neither of us seems to be feeling the cold. Our skin is flushed and heated and we smile at each other as our breathing begins to return to normal.

Being so near to Harry allows me to look at his tattoos up close and there really are a bloody lot of them. Just as I start to study one, another catches my attention. The butterfly on his torso intrigues me the most and I reach out and trace it with my fingertip.

"You right there?" he says and I look back at his face to see a smirk on his face.

"It's exquisite," I say as I trace the outline of a wing, "sorry," I say pulling my hand away.

He leans forward and kisses my nose.

"You can run your fingers over them anytime," he says, his voice low and raspy.

"Do you have any on your ass?" I ask him.

"No!" he says, his eyes wide.

"Damn," I say and pout before I smile.

I can see Harry is now doing the same except I don't have tattoos adorning my body, just the one on my wrist.

Instead I'm covered in a mass of imperfections.

And that's just how it is.

Harry must notice them as he starts to frown as he looks at my body.

Well, fuck.

I know I'm not perfect but there's no need to be so blatantly open about how bad it looks.

It's then that his finger reaches out and touches a small scar on by ribs.

"What's this from?" he asks curiously.

Oh.

Okay.

"Keyhole surgery to remove my gall bladder," I tell him, "I have five small incisions from it."

He nods thoughtfully.

He touches a small round scar on my chest.

"Chicken pox," I say, "I was 25."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

His fingers skim down the curves of my side and to my bellybutton.

"These?" he asks.

"Gall bladder and bellybutton ring," I answer.

"Bellybutton ring?" he questions.

"Yeah, got it when all the supermodels started wearing them," I tell him, "went to a tattoo parlour where the bloke simply swabbed the skin, grabbed a handful and shoved a needle straight through it."

"Are you fucking kidding?" Harry's eyes are wide.

"Hey I was fine," I say, "I got up off the table and woke up in a chair," I muse.

"What?" he asks, eyes still wide.

"Fainted apparently, went down like a sack of shit," I shrug my shoulders, "things you do when you're young eh?" I smirk and tap my finger on one of his many tattoos.