Author's Note: Hi. I'm going to update Butterfly this weekend, as well as one of my dormant fics. Probably a HOUSE one since the Powers That Be have finally decided to mercifully end the madness. Even though they found way after way to ruin my main ship on the show (House/Cameron), I tried to stick with it anyway and I just couldn't. It went from being a witty dark comedic drama to a primetime soap opera. I hate soap operas. I love to drool over the hot men starring in them but the shows themselves…ew.

Anyway, we're back in Ranger's head and it's time for a little more loving and some may be OOC introspection. Walls are tumbling down, folks and soon…neither of them will be able to or want to go back. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

"How'd he get in?"

"Picked the lock."

"How'd you get in?"

"Picked the lock…look, get yourself a couple of deadbolts…and lock that shit up."

-Ranger and Stephanie in One for the Money (2012)

"Morning, Babe."

She yelped and groaned, "Jeez, Carlos put on a bell around your neck! I'm too young to be pissing myself again!"

"Sorry, Stephanie."

"You so aren't. I like your shower."

I like her in my shower. Wrapping my hands around her wet waist, I buried my face in her hair, inhaling deeply. She shook with laughter and started pressing kisses to my shoulder, moving until she was flush against the wall. I hooked one of her legs around my waist and grabbed her body wash, drizzling some on my palms. She hadn't left. I honestly thought she had when I woke up alone in my bed. After all, Stephanie has proved to me that she is the furthest thing away from a morning person.

Thank Christ that she didn't really have a cheese grater in her place or I'm sure she would've made mincemeat out of me.

So, when I reached for her and didn't find her, I immediately assumed the worst, that she had left in the middle of the night. What strikes me was how hurt I was at the idea. I've always been a solitary creature, even in my family. I taught myself to never really depend on anyone and to keep walls up at all times. Doing so would keep me from being hurt and it's been an asset to me from the streets to the desert. Yet, this woman…this crazy white woman from the Burg has gotten to me. She's managed to do in a month what others have been trying to do off and on for 32 years. She's under my skin and I like it. I want her and I'm starting to need her…badly…after years of not needing anyone…

It's disconcerting to say the least.

She squealed softly as I slid my fingers over her slit, her legs falling open instinctively. What started out as me helping her in the shower has turned into something much less innocent and she definitely wants it, wants me. She's rubbing against me and making that soft purring noise in the back of her throat, the one that both begs and demands me to get inside her…

"We need a condom, don't we?"

I met her cerulean gaze and came to a quick decision. While my family is fertile, she said that she is on the Pill and I've seen her take her pill right on time. And I want to feel her around me. After Rachel, I made a point to never touch a woman bare but…Stephanie is different.

"No.", I replied before sliding back inside her. Her wail of pleasured pain sent shivers down my spine as did the full tightness and damp heat of her. She was boiling inside and it felt like her body was trying to put my whole self into her instead of just my cock. She was practically climbing me now, wrapping her limbs around me and moaning.

"So good…too soon…how can it…oh, Jesus…"

She was feeling it too, the deep connection between us. I had felt it as soon as she stepped into the diner and it had exploded as soon as she put her lips on mine for the first time. What started as a surefire way to get Morelli to go fuck himself has become something completely unexpected, something that's out of my range of experience and damn near overwhelming at times. What the hell is it? What the hell has she done to me and why don't I want it undone? Why do I need her this much in such a short period of time, naked or otherwise?

As she shattered against me, the answer slammed into me as hard as a cinderblock to the jaw.

And the image of a fat flying kid in a diaper shooting me with a heart shaped bullet confirmed it.

I'm in love with her. Fucking Christ, I'm in love with her…