Page 11 of My Little Secret

Chapter 5

SADIE

I awokethe next morning bleary and disoriented, like a bear emerging from the depths of hibernation. What the fuck year was it? I groped for my phone on the nightstand, Hawk’s thick arm draped over my waist.

I stilled mid-reach, staring down at the muscly forearm. Hawk is spooning me.

It still didn’t seem real. It might never fully sink in. Hawk had given me five orgasms in one day. We worked that three-pack of condoms as far as it would go, and it took us till at least three a.m. before we were ready to wind down.

With a sex god like him, how could you stop?

Besides, I needed to get the fuck out of here ASAP. I had never had any room in my schedule for a dalliance with my brother’s rival. Fuck fuck fuck. Staying all night with him, in his arms, sated from multiple orgasms? Oh my god, this just couldn’t be my reality.

I grabbed my phone, peeking at the time. Six a.m. Early enough to slip out unnoticed, late enough to be caught on my way up to my room in the hotel two blocks away. My parents and brother were chronic early risers. I liked to sleep in until at least eight or nine on weekdays.

I twisted to look at Hawk. Sleeping like a cherub MMA champ. I bit back a sigh. Last night was enough. I’d taken way more than enough. I just had to walk away and guard these memories with a rifle in a secure complex buried in the ice in Norway. That’s all.

I scooted out of his embrace as carefully as I could. Hawk shifted, flopping onto his back. He grumbled something and snored softly. I perched at the edge of the bed for a moment, my pussy throbbing, partly in protest, partly in satisfaction. It might continue to do that for the rest of my life.

Creeping as quietly as I could, I gathered up my belongings and dressed out of sight in the tiny adjoined living room. And after double-checking that I had everything I’d come with, I slipped out of the hotel room like every furtive lover in the history of time.

Each step that took me away from Hawk’s room felt like a mistake. Why couldn’t I have breakfast with him? If I missed breakfast with my family, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I could blame it on a hangover, a really fun inaugural night in Denver. I stopped, turning back to look at Hawk’s door at the end of the hallway. I could turn back now. Just climb back into bed.

Desire shivered through me and I spun on my heel, running to the elevator. Maybe it was the guilt. Knowing that I had to keep this from my family and from Hawk, when every part of me wanted to see Hawk as much as possible while we were both in town. But he couldn’t know who I was—that I was his competition’s little sister. He’d balk, and so should I. This whole thing was fucked.

As I rode the elevator down to the lobby, rationalizations cycled through my mind. Last night was the best possible outcome—a one-time-only fling with Hawk, and I’d never have to admit to Brute that I fucked his most-hated rival.

Because Brute really hated Hawk.

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my coat as I streaked across the lobby, eager to burst into the cool air of the Denver morning. Outside, snow fell in wispy flakes, hitting my face and dissolving instantly. I focused on my steps, following a faint trail in the early morning snowfall. Now that I had intimate knowledge of Hawk’s personality and the exact girth of his penis, I couldn’t even conjure an ounce of what Brute felt for Hawk. I wondered if he’d even actually spoken to him outside of the grunts of fighting.

They’d fought only once, a heated match that served as the official beginning to my secret crush-a-thon on Hawk. Brute had lost. That might have something to do with his ill-will toward Hawk. But more than that, they slammed each other constantly in publicity and television spots. Provocative jabs, inciting remarks. Of course, there was money behind the rivalry. People loved to take sides as much as they loved to see opponents fight. But Brute actually hated Hawk. It wasn’t an act off-screen, as it was with some other fighters.

Brute sometimes went on unprovoked rants against Hawk, and I could tell he’d been fantasizing about winning this bout against Hawk for well over a year. I’d once even casually mentioned Hawk’s name in a conversation about this exact event, and Brute had snarled, “Don’t say his name.”

It was absurd.

I took a deep breath of cold air that sliced my lungs in two before I ventured into the hotel. I ran to the row of elevators, hopping from foot to foot. I prayed that when the elevator door slid open, my entire family wouldn’t be staring back at me like some sort of twisted comedy movie.

Luck was on my side. I was able to sneak up to my room and slide into my never-used bed. I fired a text off to my mom—"Hey, stomach upset from something I ate last night, I’ll catch you guys later. Will be working on promo schedule.” And then I slipped into a deep sleep.

I awokewith a start some hours later. Pounding on the door. My heart leapt to my throat, and I hurried to the door, unable to get my bearings before I pulled it open. Brute glared at me, leaning in the door frame.

“Where have you been all day?” He strutted into my room uninvited, just as he’d been doing since we were kids. His t-shirt was slightly damp, the only context clue that it was probably noon and he was on a lunch break. He ran his palms over his buzzed head.

“I fell asleep doing some promo work. I, uh…” I rubbed at my eyes. “I haven’t been feeling well. I think this altitude is messing me up.”

His eyes narrowed to slits as he glanced back at me. “Altitude. Sure.”

“What do you want? I need to rest. I’m sick.”

“I just missed you. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” He flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

“That’s bullshit. What’s up?”

He huffed. “Nothing. I’m just…not feeling it today.”

I nodded, knowing instantly what this was about. He needed a pep talk. Some propping up. A little kick in the ass to get his motor started again. The unofficial aspect of my official job as his publicity manager.

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