Hard Impact: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Novel (31 page)

I said nothing more. I knew I had Eileen’s blessing.

The following day, I fielded a call from Melanie, asking me what the hell was going on. I quit? Why? I told her the truth. Not about Blake of course, that was his story to tell. But that I wasn’t cut out to be an investigative reporter. When I told Melanie that I would be staying with Blake for a while, my friend had squealed with pleasure. Told me to enjoy myself, that I deserved it.

And you know what? I did. For the first time in a long while, I was happy. Truly and honestly happy. Blake and I weren’t rushing anything. We were just enjoying our time together, learning about each other, taking the time to enjoy each other’s company and enjoy our burgeoning relationship. We learned so much about one another.

One night, after a rather extended and passionate lovemaking session, Blake said that I’d literally ridden him to exhaustion. I’d laughed then, and confessed that I had experience riding… in the arena.

He had gazed up at me in question. “What do you mean you have experience in the arena?”

“Maybe I’ll show you some time,” I’d teased, before telling him, “I used to be a barrel racer.”

“Seriously?” Blake asked, eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Seriously,” I replied. “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know.”

My comment had made him smile as he traced his finger around my nipple. “Mysteries that I’m going to be more than happy to unveil,” he teased.

And unveil he did.

Over the following month, we traveled from Jackson Hole to Aspen, and from there up into the Alaskan wilderness. We were having a blast, the gossip magazines were going nuts, and I found it all rather amusing. Before long, I found myself the object of curiosity, and for the first time, I understood how Blake felt.

I didn’t care though. Let everyone think what they would. Because they would, no matter the truth. I didn’t care. Let them gossip. I realized that people would always think what they wanted, no matter whether it was the truth or not. I knew that now. Magazines like
Sweet Success
could pretend to be serious, but when the foundation of any article was based on gossip, as in Blake’s case, nothing he could say would change that. He was keeping his silence about the entire matter, and I understood now why he had been so stubborn.

Nothing he said would sway public opinion. “Let them think what they will,” he told me. He didn’t care. His properties spoke for themselves. With summer under way, he held grand openings for the Rocking J and the Camp Robber. Both were a swimming success, with more on the horizon.

I was excited for him. His company stocks had risen. His divorce to Celine finalized. He was happy, and that counted most of all.

For me, I planned on going back to Texas one of these days. Blake had helped me break my lease on the room I’d rented in San Francisco. I didn’t even go back to
Sweet Success
to gather my few things. Not that I was avoiding Angela, I didn’t care what she said anyway. Maybe I
was
better cut out for a local paper. Maybe I would try to syndicate my own column one of these days. Maybe I’d try my hand writing a novel. But for now, all that could wait.

I was having too much fun with Blake. Tomorrow we were going river rafting and I couldn’t wait. Every moment I spent with him was an adventure, one that definitely left an impression.

At the moment, we laid side by side on a wooden framed bed just outside of Deadwood, South Dakota, inspecting yet another property. Darkness had fallen long ago. We had just made love, my body still tingling from the sensations thrumming through it. Just as I felt like I was about to doze off, Blake grasped my hand. He leaned over onto his side, his head resting on an uplifted arm.

“Misty?”

“Hmmm?” I replied sleepily.

“You having fun?”

I smiled, even though I knew he couldn’t see it in the darkness. But he didn’t have to. He leaned down and kissed first one dimple, then the other. He could tell I was smiling. He claimed that every time he saw my dimples, he got a hard on.

“Are you?” he asked again.

I opened my eyes and gazed up at him, barely able to make out his features in the moonlight shining through the window. So handsome. So strong. So earnest. “Yes, Blake, I am.”

“Care to take it to the next level?”

I was jolted wide awake then, staring up at him with curiosity. “The next level?”

He shifted in the bed, and I felt something cold and hard pressed against the tip of my ring finger, slowly sliding toward my knuckle. My heart stopped, then resumed beating at a rapid pace as my cheeks grew warm with a flush that had nothing to do with the lovemaking session we’d just indulged in. Tears warmed my eyes. Was that what I thought—?

“Misty, I love you…” His fingers paused, the thumb gently caressing the back of my hand. “I hope you feel the same way about me. What do you say? Ready to go all the way?”

I made a sound that came out as a half cry, half laugh, the sound choking on the emotion rising in my throat. I swallowed and he wiped away the tears sliding down my face.

“Yes, Blake, I’m ready. Whenever you are.”

I thrilled at the sensation of the ring passing over my knuckle until it nestled against the base of my finger. Oh God, I couldn’t believe this was happening. I reveled in it, thrilled beyond expectations.

His lips lowered to mine, and I accepted his mouth as quickly as I accepted his proposal.

Blake was right.

When he did something, he definitely left an impact. And he had left a hard impact on my heart; one that would endure forever.

The End

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Helen Grey is the author of the hot alpha military romance series “Serving the Soldier.” Her passion is to write steamy erotic romance and she loves hot billionaire bad boys. Lucky for her, these two go perfectly together… Find out how in her books!

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 Helen Grey

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