I was sick of Bvlgari. I was sick of the smell of if, I was sick of the thoughts it evoked, and I was sick of smelling like Ranger. To be honest, I was still having orgasmic shower experiences with the stuff and I loved how at various times throughout the day I would catch a whiff of myself and have pleasant thoughts of Ranger. But I was constantly surrounded by him. I lived in his apartment, I drove his cars, I slept in his bed, I used his shower gel. I needed some of my own back.

After the Slayer's had been gunned down I'd been in a state of shock. Morelli had started yelling at me and I just stood there, eyes wide, not comprehending any of it. Then I'd looked for Ranger, my eyes finding him immediately. And Morelli had gone nuts. Ballistic. I'd ignored him and watched Ranger, watched him as he watched me. Then Joe had turned to Ranger and taken a swing at him. Temporary insanity was the only thing I could think. Had to be. Ranger blocked and twisted and Morelli's hands were wrenched behind his back so he couldn't move at all. I watched both of their muscles strain against each other, but I knew from experience that Ranger was stronger. And he had Morelli's arms in a position there wasn't much muscle that could help him.

Ranger said something to Morelli then, too softly for me to hear but Morelli started struggling in earnest before he just relaxed altogether. Ranger let him go and took my hand, leading me back to his car. His car taking me back to his apartment. He'd put me to bed and held me through the night, soothing me back to sleep when the nightmares came.

I'd spoken to Joe only once since that night. I'd gone into the office for my skips and there he was. There was yelling, there was arguing, there were criticisms and insults and ultimatums, but it boiled down to two main points. He'd told me to come home. I'd told him to have my things ready to pick up the next day.

It had only been maybe a week after that night with the Slayers that Joe and I had our fight. I'd been staying with Ranger, but my apartment had been recently vacated of its temporary occupants. I'd offered to go home, but he'd nixed that idea.

"Stay," he'd told me. "I like it that you're here." So I'd stayed. Not that I'd wanted to leave in the first place.

Another week passed. We were sleeping in the same bed, touching each other throughout the night. He would come in late or leave early and I would always wake up when he pulled me to him and wrap myself around him. But it was never sexual. It was like Ranger was deliberately taking a step back from the sensual and focusing on the comfortable. It was sweet. I'd had enough.

So one night after my shower, instead of slipping into one of his many black t-shirts, I just went to bed. I'd been asleep for probably an hour when he'd come home. I listened as he started the shower and drifted back into a light sleep. I felt the bed dip as Ranger slipped under the sheets, then felt him freeze when he slipped his arm around me. I turned to him and saw the look in his eyes, like he'd just found gold but wasn't sure that it was real. So as he'd propped himself up on one of his arms to look down at my face, my hands had gone to his, threading back into his wet hair as I drew his lips down to mine.

After that, he'd been voracious. Not that I was complaining. Not in the least. I woke up every morning with a smile on my face. Usually because he was there to have breakfast with me or if he wasn't, there was a note on bathroom mirror for me. And most days, he met me for dinner. Sometimes we stayed home, sometimes we went out. Sometimes we grabbed a bite before or after he'd help me with a skip or I'd lure one of his out of a bar. It worked well for us.

But I felt like I was being consumed by him. Ranger had such an intenseness to him, there was just so much there, that sometimes I felt like I was being swallowed alive. I wasn't willing to leave his apartment or remove myself from his bed, and it was just easier to drive his cars. After all, nobody was willing to steal them, vandalize them, or blow them up. It made me happy.

But I was willing to part with the shower gel. After all, it was Ranger that made the scent so sensual, and I got to have him and his scent every night of the week.

So I went shopping. I called down to Ella to see where she buys the Bvlgari for Ranger and headed over. I agonized for more than an hour over all of the choices. And then I found it. "Insatiable."

"Brand new," the saleswoman had said. "Just out on the market." It was sin in a bottle. I purchased the whole set – shower gel, lotion, perfume, the works. Then I'd immediately gone home to take a shower. Abstractly I noted that the bottle looked good in the shower, sitting next to Ranger's. A rich burgundy next to the intense black. I shaved and lotioned and did my hair. I put on a pair of tight new jeans with a sexy new top. Then I sprayed on the perfume. I looked in the mirror. I didn't just smell like sin; I was sin.

With nothing else to do, I went in to the office to see if there were any skips for either Ranger or me. I was standing next to Connie's desk, leaning my hip against a filing cabinet with my back to the door, just shooting the breeze with the girls. Then he came in.

His arms slid around my waist and as I leaned back against him I heard him take a deep breath. I felt him grow against my back.

"New perfume, babe?" he asked.

"Mmm," I said, pressing back. "You like?"

"I liked how you smelled before, babe," he said, voice low and rough. "You smelled like you were mine. But this, this makes me want to throw you down on the desk and prove that you're mine." I shuddered, his breath against my ear combined with the images in my head and his length pressed against my back were overwhelming. He pulled me out of the office into the alley behind it.

"Too many people inside for the desk to work, babe," he said. "This'll have to do." He pressed me back against the wall, pushing his hips against mine. His hands thrust under my shirt, cupping and squeezing my breasts before forcing open my jeans. I went to touch him but he grabbed my wrists in one of his large hands and pinned them above us. His hand and his mouth were everywhere, and I was so far gone I forgot we were in an alley. And then he was in me and I forgot everything but him.

Eventually we went back to the office, me dazed and Ranger smug. Before we got inside, he wanted to know what it was that I was wearing, what it was called and where I'd gotten it so that he could go there and buy their entire stock. I'd smiled when he'd said that. Ranger liked. Ranger liked a lot.

"So what was it, babe?" he asked. I told him.