Shatter-Me-PDF-Shatter-Me-Series-Shatter-Me-Shatter-Me-1-Tahereh-Mafi (1)

Chapter Thirty-Three
“Why don’t I take a look at those cuts?”
Adam is standing in front of James’ door, his hands tucked
into his pockets. He’s wearing a dark red T-shirt that hugs
his torso. His arms are expertly chiseled, professionally
painted with tattoos I now know how to recognize. He
catches me staring.
“I didn’t really have a choice,” he says, now examining the
consecutive black bands of ink etched into his forearms.
“We had to survive. It was the only job I could get.”
I meet him across the room, touch the designs on his skin.
Nod. “I understand.”
He almost laughs, nearly smiles. Shakes his head just a
millimeter.
“What?” I jerk my hand away.
“Nothing.” He grins. Slips his arms around my waist. “It
just keeps hitting me. You’re really here. In my house.”
Heat rushes up my neck and I fall off a ladder holding a
paintbrush dipped in red. Compliments are not things I know
how to process. I bite my lip. “Where’d you get your tattoo
from?”
“These?” He looks at his arms again.
“No.” I reach for his shirt, tugging it up so unsuccessfully
he nearly loses his balance. He stumbles back against the
wall. I push the material up toward his collar. Fight back a
blush. Touch his chest. Touch the bird. “Where’d you get this
from?”
“Oh.” He’s looking at me but I’m suddenly distracted by
the beauty of his body and the cargo pants set a little too
low on his hips. I realize he must’ve taken his belt off. I force
my eyes upward. Allow my fingers to fumble down his abs.