In The Woods ➳ H.S.

☙ f o r t y

I wanna find my fellow larries so Imma try this:

Chicken stuffed...

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We were pressed together under his sheets; his legs tangled with mine as his arms were wrapped around my waist pulling me to him as much as possible. My hands were at his chest, tracing the ink that was imprinted on the skin.

I never really payed mind to people with these before. I was never repelled nor attracted to those who had ink on their skin, but seeing how intricately designed these look I'm actually intrigued. It actually made me envious on how some people could delicately move a brush or a needle to make such sensitive patterns to create art, while I can only shoot an arrow from a bow to destroy.

To each their own, I guess.

"I shouldn't have done this." I mutter, and suddenly Harry tenses.

"Anna, please, for the love of whatever god is out there, don't say you regret what we just did." He says.

I look up from his chest to his eyes. He seemed guarded again, like he was preparing to cast me out of his room if I said the wrong thing. I stop my hands from tracing over the birds on his chest, only to bring them up to hold his jaw.

"We shouldn't have done this, Harry." My eyes searching his and I could see his eyebrows furrow in what I could only assume as irritation. "But I can't say I regret it."

His shoulders slacken as he unwraps one of his arms from my waist. He brings it over one of my hands as if to keep it there. His eyes close as a breath leaves his lips slowly. "Thank fuck."

"I've never given myself up to man like that before." I state, still dazed from the event that just happened.

"So you've given yourself up to a man in other ways before?" He teases, a smile grazing his lips but there was a tightness in his tone that told me he still wanted me to answer.

"No. The only men I've even interacted with more than once are my brother, father, Zayn, and Liam." I say and I feel Harry's hand tighten his hold on mine.

"I hate it when you say their names." He says, eyes still closed.

"You're too jealous for your own good." I say, brushing my thumb over the skin beneath his eyes. "I'm not even yours for you to be jealous of." I say.

I regretted the words just as soon as they came out, but not because I was worried about what he'd think, but because of the amount of butterflies that erupted in my stomach when the image of truly having Harry flashed in my mind.

I don't know how, or when, or why, I just know that somewhere along the path my irritation for him had begun to fade, until now that I'm actually quite fond of this annoying prince.

Let's face it, I've always known he was good looking, but it was always the way he walked and talked and handed out death sentences like it was nothing that made me hate him. It was the arrogance, the cockiness, and pride that set me off.

But the way he had been talking to me, interacting with me - hell, even comforting me - or the mere fact that I'm still here and not tossed out like a common whore made me realize how different he is from the person I initially thought he was.

Not by much, but enough to make it seem like I was stereotyping the rich.

Maybe he changed, or maybe he's always been this way but either way, if Harry would just brush off all his arrogance and his spoiled attitude, he was a fairly decent guy.

A frown forms on his lips, his eyes opening again to reveal the pair hypnotizing green eyes he has. "I -" he starts before cutting himself off as if unsure on what he would say.