Thank you for all your lovely reviews :) This chapter is rated M, so be warned kiddos.

He awoke to the bed empty beside him some hours later, only the faint smell of lavender clinging to the sheets proving that Lillian had even been with him the night before. Raising his head off her pillow, he squinted in the early afternoon light.

Somewhere in the back of the house he could hear running water. "Lillian?" He called, sitting up a little stiffly.

He supposed she couldn't hear him over the tap; he got to his feet and stumbled slightly, his shoes still on his feet from the night before. He followed the noise until he found himself outside a peeling, white door. "Lillian?" He called again, knocking on the aged wood.

He hesitated before he twisted the knob, but the fact that she wasn't answering was bothering him; he had half the mind to think she was drowning himself. Taking in a breath, he opened the door.

She was lying in a wooden basin so deep he would have been submerged up to his hips if he stood in it, a rather thick layer of foam hiding most of her from him. She had been floating with her ears covered in bubbles but now jerked her head up and out of the water, her cheeks flooding pink as she looked at him reproachfully over her shoulder. "Can I help you?"

He needed a moment to find his voice; she looked all too enticing, her dripping hair hanging down her shoulders, the gentle swoop of her shoulder blades fading below the water. He cleared his throat, fiddling with the doorknob. "Sorry. You weren't answering me, I just wondered if you were okay."

She reached for the tap and twisted it until the warm water stopped flowing, the actions sending the bubbles jostling about the basin. "I wouldn't say I'm okay. Last night's wine is still taking its toll. But I figured I would feel better if I took a bath."

He was finding it difficult to breathe, whether from the steam or from her he couldn't tell. She dipped down below the surface of the water again before sitting back up, sending streams of it running through her tresses and down her back. She glanced back at him, still frozen with his hand on the knob. "You can come in or leave, but you need to stop hanging around the door like a love-sick school girl, Ash."

He liked her best like this, when she was grumpy and a little mean but secretly kind to him, in her own twisted way. Padding a safe distance from the tub, he settled himself on a stiff backed wooden chair and, to give his hands something to do other than itch for her, folded the nightdress she had flung to the floor.

He had expected her to be distant this morning, and knew it was foolish to pretend he was surprised as she avoided his gaze. She was always like this, shying away from whatever emotions she had felt the evening before, as if it was a crime to have feelings for someone. Well, any feelings other than annoyance and rage. He watched her disappear under the water once again, the bubbles spreading together and apart as she surfaced, still not looking at him. Who had taught her to to be so cold?

She reached for a cloth hanging over the rusted silver tap, dunking it under the water briefly before pressing it to her face. "Sorry about last night." She said quietly, pulling the cloth back slightly to speak before beginning to scrub.

He cleared his throat. "You don't need to apologize."

She pulled the cloth away and released it into the water, watching it float for a few moments before it was pulled under the weight of the foam. "Yeah, well. Still."

He was so tired of her awkwardness, so tired of how they operated, one second stiff and nervous and then lusting after each other like teenagers the next. If there was ever a chance of things working out, they needed to stop treating each other like emotional waste baskets and more like living, breathing humans. "Have you washed your hair yet?" He asked.

"What?" She shot him a rather sharp look, her eyes curious despite her furrowed brows. "No."

"Do- would you like me to?"

She watched him with narrowed eyes for a moment, as if she was trying to figure out his reasoning, before she nodded and quickly sunk down in the water to hide herself from him. He stood long enough to swing the stiff wooden chair around so he could perch behind her, his knees pressing against the back of the basin as he sat. When she sat up again her back was oddly straight, the tops of her breasts jutting out just above the line of the foam. Carefully, he dipped his hands in the water, allowing the foam to coat his fingers before he reached for the soap.

He worked the bar between his fists until the lather overflowed between his fingers. "Tilt your head back." He said as gently as he could. He felt as if he was coaxing an animal out of the safety of its den, as if she was afraid to be herself around him with the memory of losing him so fresh in her mind.

She glanced at him quickly, her lips parted, and slowly eased her head back towards his lap, the bottom of her tresses still soaking in the water. Carefully, not wanting to bother the headache he knew she had, he laced his fingers through her hair.

She let out a hiss as he began to work his fingers against her scalp, working the soap along her hairline and pausing every few moments to press against the sensitive spot behind her ear. It was if she was melting in front of him, her hard and awkward exterior washing away as he pressed his palms against her, her shoulders beginning to ease beneath him. She whimpered as he began to tend to her neck, her muscles tight and no doubt the source of her headache. He scooped her soaking hair over her shoulder, his hand trailing a little carelessly down the front of her neck, barely brushing her collar bone.

He grabbed a tiny cup next to the basin and filled it to the brim, gently brushing the base of her skull and guiding her back as he poured water over her, the soap following the curve of her hair washing over her breasts.

"All done." He said quietly, watching the suds dribble over her skin and meet the surface of the water. "Ready to get out? Or do you want to, uh-"

She swirled in the water until she was facing him, so low in the basin that the foam obscured everything but her chin. She still wasn't used to him. "No. Towel, please."

He followed her nod to a rather fluffy bathroom set that only the Mayor's wife, Rose, could have picked out; there was no way in hell Lillian would ever pick such impractical pieces for herself. "Right."

"Could you-?" Somehow without her saying he knew what she wanted, and against his own desperate wanting for her he closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the splash and feeling the towel yanked from his grasp. "Okay." She said after a moment, her voice quivering.

She was staring at the ground, or anywhere really, that wasn't him. "What's wrong?" He asked, wanting more than anything to reach out and touch her. "Did I do something?"

"No." She sighed, addressing the carpet. "It's stupid. Like that day at the river all over again. I don't know how to be around you unless I'm screaming at you."

"Then we'll do the same thing we did then." He forced a smile to his face and tried not to look disappointed. "We just have to get reacquainted, remember? Do you have a comb?"

She finally met his gaze only to send him a bemused look, but made no comment; clutching the towel more tightly to her chest she led up out into the hall, pausing at the top drawer of a rather large set of drawers. "Here." She said after a moments rummaging, stuffing the comb in his hand.

"Lillian." He said her name softly, watching her shoulders stiffen slightly. "It's me. The same me from before all the- you know. I'm not going anywhere. It's okay now. Turn around so I can fix your hair."

She did as she was told but not before glaring at him, bracing a hand against the chest of drawers, the other still holding up her towel. "Sorry."

He placed the comb teeth at the bottom of her hair, beginning to pick at the many knots it had worked itself into; even after a few strokes, her ends were beginning to curl. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, you have beautiful hair." He mused, leaning forward enough to smell the lavender scent it so often emitted.

The long he touched her, the more she seemed to relax; she began to shrug her shoulders, as if to work out a kink. "My mother has beautiful hair. Or at least she did, the last time I saw her." He snagged a knot, making her let out a tiny hiss before continuing. "Very long and thick, very blonde. With two platinum streaks right by her eyes."

"Do you get the curl from her?" He wasn't really interested, but he knew if he kept her talking long enough that she would come back to him, and become the same Lillian she had always been, before all the fighting that had torn them apart. It was just a matter of working back her trust, or at least making her trust herself around him again.

It was the first time in a while he had heard her laugh; she let out a bark-like chuckle that was far too short but friendly to his ear. "No, probably my Dad. Although his hair was always such a mess, I couldn't tell you what it looks like. He always covers it with a ball cap, and these shaggy pieces always stick out at weird angles."

"A ball cap?"

"It's this weird thing. Apparently he was wearing it when he met my mother."

He ran the comb down the length of her hair, hesitating as his fingers began to divide it into the beginnings of the braid. "I remember what you were wearing when I met you."

She made a noise in the back of her throat that almost sounded like a scoff. "I do too. It wasn't anything special."

"No it wasn't." He agreed, beginning to coil the braid from the top of her head to her ears. "I liked the way you wore it though. You always used to get the skirts stuck around your ankles, remember? Or get them caught on things, like the rose bush..."

He felt silence encompassing them again but for the first time in a while it wasn't uncomfortable, standing with Lillian and braiding her hair, listening to her breathe. He had just gotten to the end and realized he didn't have an elastic; pinching the hair between his fingers, he inched closer until he was sure she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

"Okay..." She whispered, tilting her neck up slightly so the warmth of his breath warmed the droplets of water that still clung there. He felt her hand creep up to stray across his cheek. "Okay, you've won me over."

"About time." He whispered back with a smile, placing the braid at the small of her back, his hands moving until they gripped her hips through the towel. "You always do need some unwinding after a fight, don't you?"

He could see the corners of her mouth tug up in their usual crooked fashion, but there was still a slightly stiffness to her posture. Running his hands up her sides, he flicked the braid over her right shoulder, continuing the ministrations he had begun in the tub.

She let out a slight groan as began to rub at her neck, silencing herself as he pressed his lips against her shoulder. "I've missed you. I know these past few weeks have been awful... But I'm here now. For as long as you'll have me." He murmured, pulling back enough to continue the job, but not far enough for her to miss the throbbing that had just begun in his trousers.

He gripped her shoulders, twisting his thumbs so as to ease all the knots in her spine, the massage making her moan and bring her hand down from his cheek in favor of gripping the chest of drawers. "I've missed you too." She whispered back, her tone a little huskier than it normally would have been as he found a sensitive spot between her shoulder blades.

She arched her back and let out tiny groan, her grip loosening on the towel and allowing it to slide down her back a few inches before she caught it. He watched a few strands of loose hair drip onto her back, the water sliding down and disappearing where he couldn't see. He pressed his thumb against her spine and felt her melt in his arms, her head lolling traitorously back as he reached her lower back, his fingers beginning to press against the base of her spine. He found his lips pressing against the hollow of her neck, the feeling making her let out a moan and lose her grip on the towel completely.

He nearly exploded as the towel draped itself around her thighs before landing in a heap on the floor, nothing hiding her from him anymore; the arch of her back, the slight catch of her breath, and her posterior perched perfectly between his thighs making him almost dizzy with want. She was frozen for a moment and would have flown back to the safety of the towel if he had not had the good sense to hold her there; almost cautiously he placed a hand on her rib cage, just below her left breast, and leant in to kiss her neck again.

"Ash." She began to whisper, her words fading into a moan as he began to trace her spine again, kneading and circling all her wound up spots until she became soothed once more.

"Relax." He murmured into her hair, following the curve of her spine until he reached her hips, one of his fingers dragging teasingly along the jutting bone. He glanced down at her as he traced the curve of her ass, trying not to let a moan escape his own lips.

She trembled slightly but spread her legs as he began to probe her from behind, his fingers finding her folds and being greeted by a dripping wetness. Running his fingers a slowly as he dared around her lips, her recklessly plunged one in her. She gasped and arched more desperately than ever, her ass pressing against his hips. "Ash." She moaned.

He pumped his palm against her a few more times before he withdrew, his fingers struggling to find her clit. "Let me make you feel good." He whispered, his hand leaving her ribs to find a home against her breast.

She whimpered but seemed unwilling to let him be dominant anymore; turning to face him she launched herself at him, her lips demanding his. It was more than a kiss, so much more- she opened his mouth and stole his very breath from him, the air leaving his lungs and filling her own and making him let out an involuntary groan.

They couldn't stay still; they were thrashing blindly through the hall in their desperation to find her bed, Lillian clawing at his hair and neck so hard he nearly sent them crashing into her stove, her fingers tugging at his collar and demanding he be closer to her. He let his nails scratch their way down her waist until he reached her ass, his hand like another being sewn onto his arm as he gave her a spank, earning him a tiny squeak against his lips.

He nearly tripped over a chair as she ripped open his shirt, her hard nipples pressing against his chest. Tired of the shuffling, he gripped her behind and scooped her up until her legs had looped about his waist, the wetness of her core brushing against his stomach as she began to nibble at his neck. He was no longer afraid or hesitant when it came to being with her, no longer afraid of marking each other with their love making; they were making a physical claim on each other with this act, she had at least taught him that.

She yanked his shirt off his shoulders as he set her on the edge of the table, not having the strength or the patience to wait any longer for her; he flattened himself against her as he began to kiss her neck, sucking so hard he was sure he would draw blood before long. She was moaning and arching against him, trying to redirect his hands to the wetness between her legs while they insisted on playing with her breasts, bouncing and twisting her nipples in a way that he was sure sent her insane with fury and lust.

He drew back to find her mouth again before he lowered his lips to her nipples, her hands raking his hair and trying to force him lower. He could feel her thighs trembling next to his, and at last he took pity on her; sliding himself over her and off the table he knelt before her, spreading her legs.

She began bucking the moment he pressed his mouth to her, his tongue circling and flicking her clit as her familiar taste made its way past her lips. Spreading her with one hand, he reached another up to hold her still, his hand flat against her stomach and forcing her to quiet her thrashing. He dipped a finger inside her as he pulled back, watching her breasts bounce as she lashed out against him, struggling to come without him. "Say my name Lillian." He commanded, returning his mouth to her clit as his finger began to pump more insistently.

It took a few moments, but all at once she tensed up, her wetness beginning to course around him, his name firing from her lips like a gun. "Ash! Ash..."

He couldn't bear to soothe her through it, couldn't wait any longer; yanking his trousers and his under shorts off in one motion he lowered himself onto his elbows on top of her. He had a moment of weakness and glanced in her eyes for permission, despite knowing that he had claimed her in ways no other man had and that she would welcome him there once more, and found her staring at him and she rode out the after effects of her come alone, her lips swollen.

"Ash." She whimpered, allowing him to kiss her once more before he plunged himself inside her.

He groaned as she cried out again, her lips pulsing around him as buried his face in her neck and began to move, his hips pounding hers and making her let out a tiny gasp every time they collided. This was so much more raw, more feral, than anytime he had been inside her; he gripped her breast as he felt himself building, his breath hard in her ear.

She was moaning again, so loud he could feel the windows shaking, the table they were on beginning to skid across the floor with every movement. He placed a hand on her tailbone and raised her, opening her up to him, before lowered his fingers to the place they were joined.

The second he touched her clit she began to pulse in a hard, throbbing manner, her hands moving from gripping his hair to scratching his back. She was screaming too, a high pitched and completely feminine sound echoing around the room every time he pounded into her.

He heard her scream his name into his ear and felt her rush of wetness moments before he came, too exhausted to withdraw as he spilled inside her. He felt his knees give out and collapsed against her breast, his elbows the only thing stopping him from crushing her with his weight.

They stayed joined like that for a few moments before he registered the fact that they were both trembling, their sweat mixing and making their skin stick together as if one. Lifting his head off her breast, he tried to read her face- if he hadn't known that she was still suffering from the after effects of love making, he would have thought she had a fever.

"Are you okay?" He asked, brushing her hair from the sweat of her forehead. The braid he had made was hopelessly undone.

"Yeah." She turned to look at him, her chin touching her shoulder. "Are you?"

He gave a great shaking breath, and nearly laughed. "Yeah."

More to come! Please read and review!