My Little Secret (The Breaking Series Book 3) Read online

  My Little Secret

  A Breaking Series Novella

  Ember Leigh

  My Little Secret © 2018 by Ember Leigh

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a piece of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published by Ember Leigh, 2018

  [email protected]

  Cover art: Covers by Combs

  Editing: Elisabeth R. Nelson

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  About MY LITTLE SECRET

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  AUTHOR NOTE

  NEXT IN THE BREAKING SERIES…

  Coming February 2019

  Stay connected with Ember Leigh!

  Other Books By Ember Leigh

  Breaking The Rules

  Changing The Game

  A New York Minute

  The Last Resort

  Carlos & Casey

  When In Rome

  Turkish Delight

  About MY LITTLE SECRET

  HAWK

  Focus is my middle name. But Sadie makes me forget why I’m in town, what I’m here to win, why it all matters. That alone should tell me to stay the hell away. But I need more of her, even though I know she’s hiding something from me.

  I’ll do anything to keep her by my side. Just how far I’ll go will be my little secret.

  SADIE

  I’ve had my eye on Hawk for a long time now. Let’s just call him my MMA celebrity dream lover. So when I find myself in Denver at the same time as him, at the same bar as him…I have to say hi. But I sure as hell shouldn’t take it any farther than that. Because he’s in town for one reason: to fight my brother in the biggest televised MMA match of the year.

  I can be good… Except I can’t.

  But maybe I can make Hawk my little secret.

  Chapter 1

  SADIE

  I’d been waiting to get to Denver for months. Looking forward to it like a teenybopper waiting for a One Direction concert. Because that’s what it was going to be for me. I was going to be within a mile radius of my MMA crush, Hawk Romano.

  I figured I’d probably have some sort of sonar system that let me know he was near. A year of using his image as masturbatory fodder probably gave us a certain type of connection. Even if he had no idea that I was alive and probably would have no interest in me anyway, since he was one of MMA’s top five sexiest fighters on every poll ever.

  I stepped into a trendy bar down the street from our hotel. It was pure high industrial ceilings and exposed brick, the type of place that couldn’t decide if it was retro or cutting edge modern. The drinks menu came on a piece of reclaimed driftwood or something and featured cacao nibs and jalapeno-watermelon concoctions. Hell yeah.

  I sat facing the story-tall display of glittering bottles of liquors you only see in movies. The bartender brought me an exotic mint julep, and I nursed it, contemplating the display, relishing the murmur of conversation around me. Nobody sat on the stools beside me. Maybe the other bar patrons could tell it was a quiet “that lady must be taking herself out on a date” night for me. Or maybe I looked every inch the weary working modern woman that I felt today.

  One drink turned into two. By the time I was ordering a third, I felt sufficiently sauced but needed just a little bit more of this tantalizing tonic. I mean, I was gonna spend the next two weeks in Denver. It deserved a celebration. Alone. On a chilly weeknight, where the snow was already starting to coat the streets outside.

  I tipped the bartender for the third time when he brought me my drink. As I brought it to my lips, my sip turned into a sharp inhale as I noticed the front doors swing open. I sputtered, trying not to choke, my cheeks instantly igniting. I set the drink down but couldn’t look away.

  Maybe my eyes were deceiving me.

  Maybe these juleps were psychedelic.

  Or maybe that was actually Hawk Romano sauntering into the bar by himself looking approximately a billion times hotter than in any of his TV spots.

  I tried not to gawk. I really did. But I couldn’t help it. I was a Hawk Gawker. He moved with the subtle confidence of a world-renowned fighter, a cocky saunter that begged people to say something. Just looking at him, you could tell he would kill a man if he had to.

  Enormous biceps flexed in a simple black T-shirt, the short sleeves straining around the muscles. His dark hair was cropped close to his head, and those famous namesake bird tats were just visible on his skull. I’d been studying him long enough to know he didn’t often buzz his hair down so that they showed. This felt like an exotic bird sighting. And this exotic bird was also the subject of my wet dreams.

  Hawk eased onto a stool catty-corner from me. Too far away to shout at. I took a perfunctory sip of my drink. He’d come alone. The bartender took his order immediately—of course. I had to crane a bit to keep my line of vision over the heads of the other bar patrons lining the bar. Judging from the looks of that glass, he’d ordered water.

  Or maybe a gin and tonic. But two weeks before the big fight, that seemed odd. Unless Hawk didn’t play by the conventional rules.

  Hawk’s gaze flicked my way, and I froze, a deer in headlights. I mustered what felt like a smile and then forced my gaze to the shiny wood of the bar. Just play it cool.

  But what would that entail? Sitting here, rigid with indecision, until he wandered off and I was left to mourn my cowardice? No. I needed to talk to him. Say something, at least. Introduce myself as a fan. Get an autograph that I’d hide in a vault, away from my parents’ and brother’s prying eyes.

  Courage licked through me, probably aided by the gulp of alcohol I’d just taken. Why not just say hi to him and see what happened? Suddenly warm, I tugged my coat off and cursed my lackluster preparation for meeting my celebrity crush. My blonde fly-aways felt like impossible tentacles after the snowmelt dried. I rummaged through my purse—no lipstick, no lip gloss. Nothing but my exhausted face after a work day and a flight to Colorado.

  The bartender flitted past, the dark uniform snagging my attention. I raised my hand in a jerking motion and blurted out, “Excuse me!”

  He glanced my way while he held the drink nozzle over a glass tumbler, filling it with sprite. “Yeah?”

  “I need to…” I licked my lips, glancing back at Hawk. His gaze moved, but—had he been looking this way? My breath caught in my throat. “I want to buy another drink.”

  The bartender nodded, popping a cherry into the drink. “One second.”

  I measured my breaths while the bartender finished up an order. A moment later he was in front o
f me, looking unamused.

  Leaning forward, I whispered, “I want to buy a drink for Hawk.”

  “What?”

  “That guy over there.” I nodded his way, describing where he sat. “That’s his name. His fighting name, I mean. I want to buy him a whiskey, neat. Top shelf.”

  He nodded, lifting a brow. Maybe that was too much info. I tended to over-talk. “Sure.”

  I watched as he prepared the tumbler, my mouth dry. What was I doing buying alcohol for an actively training fighter? When he headed toward Hawk, I gnawed at the inside of my lip. The bartender handed the tumbler off; Hawk sat raptly, squinting a little as he listened, his jawline impossibly square. The bartender jerked his head over his shoulder in my direction. Hawk’s gaze immediately followed it.

  And our eyes met.

  Fuck! I tried to smile again but couldn’t do it. I downed the rest of my drink, looking anywhere but to my right. Why did I do these things? I knew enough about fighters to know they had entourages of women behind them. A guy like Hawk was no exception. He’d probably take one look at me and return the drink. He didn’t need a tipsy barfly in garish leggings and day-old mascara buying him whiskey.

  I stared at my almost-empty drink. These mint juleps must have been laced with courage. I should order another one.

  Just as I leaned forward to snag the bartender’s attention again, I sensed a warmth at my side. I turned slowly, heat prickling through me. And then I gasped.

  Hawk was here.

  He leaned against the counter, my whiskey in his hand, grinning at me like a Gap model in the height of summer. At my side, he felt hulking, impossibly beefy, pure angles and muscle swells. His black T-shirt tapered into a slight V-neck, allowing wiry dark chest hair to poke out.

  I reached for his arm, my mouth agape.

  “Hey there.” He eyed my hand on his arm then looked back up at me. “Do we know each other?”

  “No.” I gulped, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe this. Hawk was in front of my face. His skin was oddly smooth, but maybe that was just because he was carved out of pure sex appeal. “We don’t.”

  “Seems like you’d like to know me.” He eased onto a stool, and my hand slid away. The air around me felt barren and chilly. The man was a grounding rod.

  “Um, yes.” Come on, brain, work. “I’ve been a big fan of yours.” Shit, should you admit that you know him? Oh well, run with it. “You’re, uh…one of my favorite fighters.”

  His grin blossomed into an ear-to-ear smile. Cologne wafted toward me, something that made me imagine him spritzing it over a freshly-washed body. Oh my god, he must look amazing naked.

  “What’s your name?” He toyed with the tumbler, but it looked full still.

  “Sadie.” Don’t you dare say your last name, or this whole thing will end right now. “And you’re Hawk.”

  He nodded, his chocolate gaze searing through me. His eyes were so pretty up close, a multi-faceted landscape, like freshly mulled spices. And despite the fact that I’d watched him beat men to a bloody pulp on TV, he had something gentle about him. Like he’d be prone to tucking me into bed and kissing me on the forehead.

  Hawk eyed his tumbler. “Thanks for the drink. I can’t remember the last time a girl bought me a drink.”

  “I’m not a girl,” I blurted, heat immediately flooding my cheeks. “I’m a woman.”

  His gaze raked over me, top to bottom, the corner of his mouth lifting up. Why was I correcting him? I needed to act sultry, alluring, not like I’d rap his knuckles for using punctuation incorrectly.

  “Yeah, you’re right about that.” His voice came out low, maybe even reverent. “All woman here.”

  The seduction in his voice was unmistakable. My thighs clenched involuntarily, and I straightened in my seat, draining the rest of my drink.

  “You’re a lot nicer than you come off on television,” I said. Alarm bells were ringing in my head. I was normally blunt, but who knew what would fly out of my mouth with the dangerous combination of alcohol and Hawk. “You always seem like you could snap a guy’s neck, but really you’re pretty sweet.”

  That knee-buckling grin came out again. “You think I’m sweet?”

  “Well, so far, yeah.” I looked for the bartender. Time for that next drink. “I mean, I’m pretty good at reading people. I can tell you aren’t gonna snap my neck.”

  “I would never,” he said, his gaze scorching across my face. “And I’ve only broken one man’s neck. It was an accident.”

  I nodded, watching him swirl the whiskey in the tumbler. “You gonna drink that?”

  He tilted his head back and forth, like he was considering it. “Maybe a little.”

  A fighter two weeks before a match shouldn’t drink alcohol. I felt like I was tempting him. A pleasant moment of silence settled between us. He turned the tumbler back and forth under his fingers. “You from around here?”

  A lightning bolt seared through me—indecision at its finest. Lie or give some vague version of the truth? My breath caught in my throat as I considered my options. “Yeah, uh…sorta like that. I’m here for a while.”

  “Work?”

  “Yep.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie. I was on my brother’s payroll. “Sort of like an extended business trip.”

  “Mmm.” Something about his appreciative hum set my skin on fire. “Same here. We’ve got good timing.”

  My skin flamed. His sultry words ricocheted through me. Though maybe he wasn’t trying to be seductive. Maybe every single thing he uttered was sexy just because I’d been fantasizing about this man for eons.

  “Oh yeah?” I tried to sound innocent. Like I hadn’t known about this MMA match-up for the past six months. “What are you here for? Another fight or something?”

  He nodded. “A big one’s coming up. Huge, actually.”

  “Cool.” My mind raced. Trying to avoid thinking about the fact that his opponent was my brother meant the words hovered dangerously close to spilling off my lips. “So who’s your…” Don’t say rival. Don’t say rival. “…trainer?”

  Hawk grinned, like he appreciated the question. Like he appreciated me. “Travis Holt. You know the trainers in my circuit or something?”

  I snickered, fingering the stem of my empty glass. I did know Travis Holt, actually. He was a bigshot trainer out in LA, where Hawk was from. Everyone in the MMA world knew about Travis Holt and his swanky gym and his new annoying show where MMA fighters squared off against regular people. I actually loved the show—I just couldn’t let my brother know how much. He still resented the fact that Travis had picked Hawk over him to train. “No. Just curious. As your number one fan, I should be kept up to date on all the facets of your career.”

  Hawk’s grin widened. “Number one fan, huh?” He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “Funny, someone last week claimed the same thing. You two might have to have a showdown.”

  I scoffed. “I’m prepared to duel. As long as it’s Cards Against Humanity, I will slaughter any foe.”

  His dark eyes gleamed with interest. Like the entire world around him had shrunk and all he could see was me. His attention sizzled. “And what do you do when you’re not slaughtering foes?”

  “Oh, you mean, like, to keep the lights on?” When he nodded, I went on. “In a nutshell…I’m a publicist.” I beamed at him, batting my eyelashes. “I manage social media accounts for my clients, I design campaigns, I can even brand a business on a good day.”

  “Dang. You sound pretty useful.” He took another tiny sip of his drink. “Might have to keep you around.”

  I grinned at him, but on the inside my belly flopped to my feet. He was probably just kidding—hopefully he was kidding—because being hired by my brother’s rival would be the biggest breach of contract I could ever imagine. Besides, Brute paid me to dig up dirt on Hawk and any other fighter he matched against. I was the professional pot-stirrer, but I couldn’t stir two pots at once.

  “How do you even know I’m worth hiring? I c
ould suck, for all you know.” I sent him a mysterious smile. My best approximation, at least.

  “Well, I’d have to look at your portfolio, of course. Check some things out. See if I could afford you.” His lips twitched upward. “But something tells me you’re really good.”

  His words lit a fire inside me, one that was difficult to rationalize away. “Oh, I’m good. You don’t even know how good.”

  “Yeah?” His tone egged me on.

  “I’m so good I’ve had guys call me ten years later still wanting more.”

  He burst into laughter. “Are we still talking about your job?”

  My cheeks flushed, and I waved the bartender down. Definitely was not talking about my job anymore. “Maybe. You’ll have to decide that for yourself.”

  Chapter 2

  HAWK

  My mind whirled faster than if I’d taken five shots back to back, but I was sober as a bird. The two tiny sips I’d taken of whiskey were damn fine, but this girl Sadie jazzed me up more than psyching up for a fight did.

  I’d only meant to come into this bar for a glass of water, to get a feel for the scene in Denver. I’d be here for the next two weeks, so that was important.

  I never expected to sit here for an hour talking about roller coasters and wine and everything in between.

  “OK, so, you’re telling me–” She pressed her fist against the bar top, snagging my gaze with those fiery green gemstone eyes “You’ve seriously never seen Jurassic Park?”