Derek’s lack of fear of the plague didn’t make him invulnerable to it. He succumbed just after dawn the next morning.

Aside from guilt for contaminating the man, Pepper felt terrible that he was so miserable.

She was also glad to be past the projectile stage. Really, really glad as she sat down to a bowl of pasta and a glass of wine. A soft knock at her door had her standing and staring longingly at the carb-filled deliciousness as she answered it.

Samantha stood on the threshold, looking perky and sweet as pie. She had the best clothes.

Cute skirts, gorgeous blouses, and she was tall enough to not need heels.

Or more likely, smart enough to not wear them while chasing kids around all day.

Today she wore a blue floral silk shirt. A matching bow on the blouse tied near her neck, and she paired the whole look with black wide-legged trousers and sapphire flats.

Literally, the woman was surrounded by messy, germy, paint-covered, and snot-filled kids all day and she looked pristine.

And her husband was a total jerk for not appreciating it.

“Hey,” Samantha said. “I came to see how you were faring.”

“A little late,” Pepper said with a smile. “Considering I’ve been recovered for over a day now.”

“Well.” A shrug. A smirk. “You had Derek with you.”

“I did.”

Samantha shrieked. “Oh, my God! You didn’t! You did.” She fist pumped and danced her way into the kitchen, snatching up the glass of wine and taking a sip. “That’s the best news I’ve had all day.”

Pepper opened a cupboard and reached for another glass, filling it with more wine since Samantha had happily absconded with hers.

She’d just lifted it to her mouth when Samantha asked, “Was he as good as he looks?”

And cue choking.

“I knew it!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Pepper gasped out.

“You didn’t have to.” Samantha set the glass down then put her hands an obscene distance apart. “Now tell me. This long?” The space increased. “Or this?”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “You’re terrible.”

“True story,” Samantha said. “I also have a kindergartener at home and a husband who’s not. I need to live vicariously through you.”

“Or,” Pepper said. “You have a really dirty mind and want me to make it worse.”

“Not—” A beat. “Fine. Okay. We both know that’s true.”

“That much I know.” She snaked out a hand and grabbed her bowl of pasta. “And not that you need to know, but yes he lived up to the hype.”

Pepper shook her head as Samantha squealed again, but she was smiling all the same.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the windows, a masculine arm sat heavy over her midsection.

Pepper turned her head carefully to the side, saw that Derek’s eyes were closed and his breathing was even. That was the only reason why she did it.

Because he was asleep.

She pressed her nose to his neck and inhaled.

Good God, it was better than chocolate.

Blasphemy, she knew. But still the truth.

“Did you just sniff me?”

Her eyes flew open and all breath halted in her lungs. No, she would absolutely not admit that she’d been sniffing Derek. “No. I was breathing. You know, like critical bodily functions”

Except his eyes were open and blazing with a look that set her nerves on high alert.

“How are you feeling?” He still looked pale, but had survived the requisite forty-eight hours.

“Better,” he said then wrinkled his nose. “But I need dousing in bleach. I stink.”

“You smell incredible.”

Dimple alert. “Ah. But I thought you said you weren’t sniffing me.”

“I wasn’t.” She glared, twisting the sheet in her fingers. “But I can smell you know. And you don’t smell bad.”

“Mmmhmm.” Derek gently pried her fingers free of the sheet. “Likely”—he ripped the cotton off her body—“story.”

“What—?”

She didn’t get the chance to finish the question because Derek was suddenly between her thighs, nose pressed against her center, inhaling deeply. Hot breath permeated the lace underwear she wore when he spoke. “I’m sniffing you.”

Creepy.

As in his words should have been. But coming from Derek, his voice all gravely, his face nuzzling into her . . . yeah, not so much.

Moisture pooled between her legs, soaking her panties, filling the space with a whole different scent altogether.

Female arousal.

It should have embarrassed her. It didn’t.

Derek tugged the hem of her underwear to one side and traced his tongue up. Then back down.

She shuddered, hands coming up to clench at his hair.

“Like that, baby?” he asked.

“You know I do,” she said. “But shouldn’t you be—” Her words faltered because he’d done that thing again with his tongue. The twist-flick against her clit that made her stupid.

She’d once thought his dimples his most dangerous body part.

She’d been wrong. That particular award went to his tongue.

Sweet words, hopeful sentiments, and complete and utter ruler of her lady business.

Another flick had all rational—and irrational—thoughts fleeing her mind.

Sensation took over everything. The heat building within her center, flooding her legs and torso, pleasure twisting her higher and higher and higher until—

She screamed his name and exploded.

“I was smelling you,” Pepper murmured, when the power of speech returned to her.

Derek laughed. “I know.” He pushed up and gathered her in his arms, sniffing deeply in her neck. “And I don’t care.”