Page 43 of Love Bitters

"Your toothbrush is still in the cup," Wes offers.

The thought of them leaving it there while I was gone as if no one wanted to be the one who made my absence official, makes tears spring to my eyes. Of course, neither of them misses it either. Evan rubs my back softly as Wes's hand lands at my hip in support, which of course makes this hormonal pregnant lady cry even harder. Before I know it's happened, I'm spun to face Evan and pulled into his chest. He murmurs assurances in my ear, making the tears worse. The only thing that manages to get them to stop is just as crazy as why I started crying in the first place. I internally laugh at what they must be thinking right now. It's a commonly known fact that no guy wants to deal with a crying woman, yet here I am, after just puking my guts out, sobbing about a toothbrush. These stupid hormones are making me wonder if I should be putting in a bid for a bed at the loony bin.

"I'm sorry," I apologize again.

"Stop that," Evan demands gently. "None of this is your fault. I mean, the choice to leave us kind of is, but we're not holding that against you. None of us could say that we wouldn't have done the same. You put us before yourself, and we'd have done that for each other. But this other stuff is uncontrollable, so don't feel bad about any of it, okay?"

Swallowing hard, I nod into his chest. Thankfully, he presses his lips into my forehead, not my lips, then tells me to go ahead and brush my teeth before leaving Wes and me alone. Turning toward the sink, I set about to do just that as Wes moves to my side and props a hip against the sink.

"You know, I didn't think my cooking could get that bad in just a couple months," he teases, running a hand along the stubble on his chin. "I can honestly say that I don't think it's ever made anyone vomit, though. That's definitely a first."

I just about choke on toothpaste as I laugh. Taking a second to spit, I insist, "It was just the smell. I didn't actually taste anything, so I think you can save a little face with your cooking skills."

"Still," he says with a shrug while I finish up. Handing me a hand towel, he asks, "Want to go hide out for a little while and give them a chance to do something about dinner?"

"Sure," I reply easily. Going back in there to start this trip all over again is the last thing I want to do. Besides, I'd never forgo a hideaway with Wes. Lacing my fingers through his, I hold my breath as he leads us down the hall to his room. Once inside, it kind of makes me happy on more levels than one to see that something else hasn't changed. Everything is exactly as I remember it. Wes is a happy medium between Evan and Murphy on the OCD and clean freak scale. There aren't any dirty clothes thrown around like I'm sure litter Thatcher's floor, nor is it cluttered like Ollie’s space. It has a minimalistic yet homey vibe. The smell is even the same, I determine as Wes helps me onto the bed as though I'll break.

Once we're both on our sides, facing each other, he tucks me beneath his chin and holds me tight. "I missed this more than anything," he admits quietly. "I'd lay here for hours after getting off work and just wish you were here with me. Are you mad at me for stalking you?"

I huff out a short laugh. "Not at all. I'm glad you found me and brought me back. I don't know when or if I would've had the courage to do it myself. Besides, I stalked you in secret, too."

He chuckles, and the sound vibrates against my chest. It does amazing things to my nipples that are pressed against him. Of course, leave it up to my hormones to make me feel even crazier in a moment of seriousness.

"I thought I saw you in the bar once," he teases. "Or was that you that was peeping through my window that one night. I hope it was you. Otherwise, some peeping Tom got a damn good strip tease show."

The accusations are outlandish, but they still make me laugh anyway. "I can assure you I wasn't at your window, but if you're giving away free shows, I'd like to sign up for one."

"Still as insatiable as always I see," he brags. "Good to see that at least one thing hasn't changed."

I smile, but his words make me wonder just how much things have in fact changed. "How are you able to forgive me so easily? And why? Why didn’t you just move on?"

Clearing his throat softly, he explains, "I wasn't ever angry at you for leaving. It hurt like a bitch and was probably one of the worst feelings in the world, but I kind of figured the whole relationship with all of us kind of hit differently for you once we got back to society. Secluded in the mountains is one thing, but to be seeing five of us at once would take its toll on anyone. Especially since you knew your friends didn't agree. We kind of discussed that maybe it was your religious parents, too. We assumed a lot of things, but your surprise wasn't even on the table of options. So, for me, there was nothing to forgive. I just wish that you would've come to us before ghosting. And I didn't move on because I couldn't. You didn't give me a chance to say it before, but I love you, Imogene, and it's more than just my feelings for you. I love the way you tease Thatch with me and the way Murph smiles more when you're around and even when I catch Ollie and Evan staring at you at the same time as though you're their missing puzzle piece. You belong with us no matter how far or long you run."

I'm torn between kissing this gorgeous man silly and crying again. Attempting to keep my cool, I switch to joking again. "Now, that does sound kind of stalkerish." When he laughs, I ask, "What would you have done if it was for those reasons and not the pregnancy? If I'd moved on?"

He shrugs the shoulder not pressed against the bed. "I don't know. Begged, maybe. Got on my hands and knees and pleaded for you to come back. Was there someone else?"

The question is quiet but feels like a bomb being dropped between us. I was going to joke and tell him about the moving guy showing interest months ago, but this isn't one of those moments. It would dig that imaginary knife deeper if there was even a hint at there being someone else. "There has only been the five of you since Tennessee."

I'm not sure if he means for me to hear the relieved sigh that slips from his chest, but I do, which is why I make the decision to add, "Unless you count my book boyfriends, of course."

He pulls away far enough to where I can see the question in his gaze, and it makes me giggle. "Oh yeah, I joined a book club with a bunch of women where we read scandalous romance novels and then pick apart the gritty love parts."

"Color me intrigued," he replies grinning. "Do tell more."

So I do. We chat quietly in the cocoon of Wes's room for hours until I start dozing off in his arms. The last thing I remember is him pressing a kiss to my temple.

Waking up a few hours later, I realize that I just slept better in that short amount of time than during an entire night of rest. Without a doubt, it's because I've been wrapped up in Wes's arms. Only somehow we got switched around, so my back is now pressed to his chest. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, except I can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against my ass, even as he still sleeps. Earlier, I wasn't sure which boundaries should be left untested since we're just getting back together, but in my half-awake, half-asleep state, I feed into the lust, letting my hips push back against him softly. He groans in his sleep and grabs my hip to grind into me. Damning the consequences, I take his hand in mine and bring it underneath my shirt. As soon as it covers my breast, his breathing becomes shallow in my ear, obviously as awake as I am now.

"Imma," he breathes into my ear, and that's all it takes.

Reaching back, I grasp a handful of his hair, dragging his mouth to mine. The same as the other kiss earlier, Wes doesn't hold back. It's one of the things I love most about him. It's true. I love this man. The internal revelation lends me the rest of the courage I need to make sure we finish what I started.

His tongue continues to work against mine as I slip my bra below my breasts, giving him full access. There's no hesitation as he cups the one in his hand and rolls my nipple between his fingers. Gasping into his mouth, I roll my hips back against him again, and he releases another groan as that hand drops to my thigh. Patiently, he skims up the inside of my leg until I allow it to part for him. He drags a finger across the surface of my panties and it's all I can do to wait for him.

Slowing the kiss down, he allows my attention to drop to the hand now working it's way beneath my panties. As my lower lips part for him, I lose my grip on my control. My head falls back against his shoulder, and he takes full advantage, dropping his mouth to the side of my neck while using those beautiful fingers against me. This time, I can't contain the loud gasp when one sinks inside, and it only takes a few seconds before I'm begging for more. Then I almost break down into tears when he pulls away.

"Will it hurt the baby?" he whispers in my ear.

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