Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow, #3)

by Rainbow Rowell

Simon’s arm is around me. My back is against his chest. His breath is harsh and uneven on my neck. He’s awake. “Simon?” “Yeah.” His voice is rough. “What time is it?” “Don’t know,” he says into my hair. “Didn’t want to move.” “Maybe we shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the middle of the day.” “Maybe not.” He tucks his hand under my ribs and pulls me even more snugly against him. He’s rubbing his face into the back of my head. “You smell so good, Baz . . .” I close my eyes. I let him move me. “So good,” he says, pushing my head forward. “I can’t get enough of it. I can’t swallow it. And it . . . it doesn’t help to hold my breath . . .” He inhales again. Unsteadily. Then he’s biting my scalp, his mouth wide and wet in the hair above my neck. “So good . . .” I think he says. “So good.” He bites right at my hairline. He’s found the scar there before, stretched and faded. “If it were me,” he rasps, “if I were you . . .” He bites and bites. “I’d drain you fuckin’ dry, Baz, and it still wouldn’t be enough.” My fangs break though my gums—that happens, it’s all right, I try to suck them back. I try to turn, but Simon holds me fast against him. I let him. I lay my arm atop the arm he has wrapped around my stomach. He’s champing at my neck now, sucking. He knows he can suck hard; there isn’t enough blood in me to leave a mark. “I can’t get enough,” he says, hot behind my ear. “Baz, help me. Help me. I can’t get enough.” “I’m right here,” I say. “I know.” He bites hard on my ear, pulls ...