UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT (Gods of the Gridiron Book 1)

by Shanna Swenson

  “Remember, I’m bigger. Don’t make me scoop it all over you because I will.” He teased. “Do you surrender?”

  “Never!” she called out and attempted to fight him off even as he grabbed her wrists and held them over her head. He chuckled as she frowned. Man, that was easy, he thought as his head descended and he kissed her lightly, gently at first, before his tongue moved into her opening mouth.

  He moaned as his other hand moved to cup her cheek and she gasped. He immediately pulled back.

  “Cold,” she murmured as she looked into his eyes, her forehead covered by the beanie cap. He grinned at how good he felt in that instant. Butterflies were filling his stomach, and he longed to take her on the cold ground, to love her with an urgency he’d never quite felt before.

  Just then a loud reverberation sounded throughout the valley—not unlike a shotgun blast—and Sky inhaled sharply. Travis’s hold on her wrists let up as he moved that hand to her mouth and hushed her, listening hard for footsteps, another shot, anything. “Shhh,” he whispered and watched Skyla’s eyes dart around. He could almost feel her heart pounding in her chest, or was that his?

  Minutes passed and nothing but quiet surrounded them. Travis held fast though, listening hard, waiting until he was sure they weren’t being hunted. Finally, fear evaporated as he looked into Skyla’s blue eyes. He pulled his hand away and couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips as he looked her over. She was so utterly beautiful.

  He was the first to move, he pulled himself off her and stood, extending his hand to assist her up.

  “Well, that was scary,” Sky said and looked around again. “What do you think it was?”

  “An animal. A tree branch breaking. Who knows?”

  “Can we go inside now?” Her smile pulled to the side, her cheek ticking with worry.

  Travis nodded and extended his hand. She took it and together they walked back up the hill and to the cabin.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “This is the good stuff right here.” Sky smiled as she pulled the old Scotch bottle up and out of the bar cabinet in the living room.

  They’d come in from their scare in the woods and sat quietly for a time after shucking their jackets and boots, waiting for the raid from Geraci that never came.

  After about an hour, Travis had said, “Fuck this,” and began to disrobe to only his jeans. He started a vigorous HIIT workout using gallon jugs of water he’d found beneath the sink, a chair from the dining room, and books stacked up. He was good at improv, and Sky soon found herself following his lead as he “coached” her through a heart-pumping routine that had them both drenched in sweat before all was said and done. Her muscles ached and places she’d never felt burned from being made to move in positions she wasn’t used to.

  Afterward, they’d showered—separately, of course—and took naps after a lunch of sandwiches and chips. When Sky had awoken a time later, she’d found Travis reading White Fang and smiled at him as she’d entered the living room. She hadn’t wanted to interrupt him, as she felt he didn’t get to spend a lot of time “bored” and reading, so she’d moved to the packed bookshelf and selected the crumbling copy of John Berendt’s Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. They’d read in silence for a time before their tummies had begun to rumble and it was time to start dinner.

  Tonight, Skyla had made chicken and dumplings—a hearty and indulgent recipe that had been handed down to her from generations past. She and Travis joked and worked amicably together, mutually complacent, and Sky began to realize how much she enjoyed his company. When he wasn’t being a cocky bastard, he was kind, thoughtful and considerate—a true shock to her.

  But not long after dinner, his eyes had changed as they sat watching the fire, the night closing in on them quickly, blanketing them between the veil of darkness and sunrise. The time where temptation lurked, weaknesses surfaced, and men and women, who weren't before, became lovers. The day had been safe and sure, but the night was full of uncertainties, desires, and itching impulses to do sinful things not considered during daylight. Where his advances had been playful in the light of the sun, now they were more promising, sharper, and harder to ignore. And God, he was so hard to ignore.

  Sky knew she needed help as his face turned toward hers and his jaw ticked. She found herself wondering how the stubble there would feel moving over her naked flesh. She popped up off the couch quickly and moved to the cabinet next to the fireplace, remembering her “Uncle Terry” had a secret stash.

  “Good stuff, huh?” Travis asked, eyeing the bottle of 20-year-old Scotch whisky in her hands.

  Sky plopped back down beside him and twisted the cork off the top, smelling the sweet, peaty scent of the libation.

  “Yum,” she cooed before turning it up and taking a big swig of it.

  Travis’s sexy brows went up. “Wait. I thought you didn’t drink… You like Scotch?”

  Sky smacked her lips and savored the burn across her palette and down her throat as she nodded.

  She swiped the back of her hand across her lips and smiled over at Travis, handing him the bottle. “I just told you that at the bar because I was afraid you’d get me hammered and take advantage of me.”

  He gave her a thoughtful look before shrugging. He took the bottle from her and reciprocated, then exhaled an approving sigh after chugging a swig too. “That’s a fine year.” He winked. “Good call, Aphrodite.”

  Uh oh, she thought. Ares must be wanting to come out and play. She needed to distract him; she needed more booze before she was ready to acquiesce.

  “So, Trav, why aren’t you married yet?”

  “Oh, hell, let me take another swig or two before I answer that,” he snarled and did just that.

  “Oh, c’mon, it’s a legitimate question.”

  “I could ask you the same damn thing,” he smarted, but realized his mistake as Sky looked down with a frown. “Damn, Sky. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  “It’s ok.” She sighed heavily, not sure how she was going to handle things when she got back to Atlanta. She was sure the media would expect a public statement from her on the matter, then she would have to actually deal with Sam too. “Pass that back over, would ya?” she asked and motioned to the bottle, of which Travis handed back to her.

  “I guess I could simply say I haven’t found the right one. That’s a true enough statement.” Travis shrugged after several minutes of silence. “But then again, I could answer with the fact that I haven’t really been lookin’ either. And why should I? I got pussy coming at me left and right.” He smirked but Sky didn’t reply. She’d never had men throw themselves at her, and, although the prospect sounded alluring, Travis’s frown said otherwise. “As great as that can be when you’re younger and horny with all this fame and talent and energy, after a time, it starts to get old. You wonder if you’ll ever find someone who enjoys you for more than your image and your money.”

  When he looked back up at her, his blue eyes sparkled with regret and sadness.

  She gulped. “I imagine that would be hard.” She looked down again, fiddling with her fingers around the amber bottle. “I would love to know what that feels like though, just for a day.”

  “Genuine women are hard to find,” he said almost randomly.

  “Men too...apparently.” Sky sighed.

  “Hey, you can’t beat yourself up about it, you know?”

  “You haven’t even heard his side of the story. There are always two sides.”

  Travis shook his head as if she were being ridiculous. “Don’t need to.”

  Sky took another swig from the bottle, her senses starting to numb. “I guess I’ll either get one of two things: a poorly-executed public apology or a correspondence of some kind. Maybe an NDA from a lawyer, which washes his hands of me and demands the ring back.” She laughed humorlessly.

  “He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.”

  “Ah, who am I kidding? What did I expect, a happily ever after? Those don’t exist.”
>
  “They do for some people.”

  “Not me.” Sky felt the effects of the alcohol warring within her system- emotion vs. numbness.

  “Sky, you’ll find it. Just not with a douchebag like him. You don’t want some old ass MF-er anyway, do you?” Travis grimaced.

  “He was safe.”

  “He cheated on you! He wasn’t safe at all.”

  “And you’d be safer?” she asked, conviction in her eyes.

  “Look, I may be a playboy, but I don’t cheat when I’m in a committed relationship.”

  “And when was the last time you were in a ‘committed’ relationship? High school?”

  “Because,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “cheating is cheating, it doesn’t matter what the excuse is. I know you think you personally did something wrong here, but I blame him. If he had an issue with you, he could’ve talked to you about it first, broken things off before he went and stuck his dick in somebody else.”

  Travis had a good point; she hadn’t even thought about it that way. Sam could have come to her and told her he needed more or less of something, and she would have been receptive…maybe. Hell, who was she kidding, the man did her a favor by cheating on her; it gave her an excuse to be done with a loveless relationship.

  “I’ve accepted that I probably won’t be in love with the man I marry,” Sky said, feeling hopeless.

  “What? Did you really just say that?” Travis furrowed his brows, confused.

  She had his full attention now. He sat up and turned his body toward her.

  Sky looked at him for a moment before dropping her head and taking another swig of the whiskey bottle. Travis jerked it from her grasp. “Answer me,” he demanded. “Why in hell won’t you love the man you marry? Is it martyrdom or marriage, fuck?”

  Sky swallowed hard, tears coming to her eyes. She shrugged, trying to understand her feelings enough to explain how she felt to a man who didn’t know her. “I’m not… I’m not…” She pulled a breath in. “I’ll have to settle.”

  “Skyla.” Travis’s whisper of her name made her shiver. “You don’t have to settle, baby. Why in God’s name do you think that’s even an option?”

  “Because I don’t look like Brittany!” she cried loudly, anger seizing her once more.

  “So fuckin’ what. You don’t need to look like Brittany. You’re you.”

  “I know, and I’m ok with that. I’m not a prize wife. I know that if I do marry, whoever I marry won’t be doing it for my looks.”

  “Jesus, Skyla.” Travis covered his face with his hands briefly before dropping them. “You’re absolutely stunning. Why would you think something so ludicrous?”

  She gaped up at him, again astounded by his words. “You—you think I’m stunning?”

  “Yes. Why do you not think so?”

  “Because you haven’t seen all of me. You haven’t seen me naked. You…”

  “Wow, easy now. Just breathe, Sky.” Travis gripped her shoulders.

  Had she forgotten to breathe? Fuck, why was she suddenly hysterical? He pulled her into his arms and cradled her head to his chest. Dammit! Was she having a panic attack again? God, he was going to think she was a loon, in need of a psych eval before this was all over. But as much as she tried, the inner damaged teen would not be dampened down.

  “Shh, it’s ok, baby doll. I got you. Skyla. Just breathe, baby. I got you.” His words pulled on heartstrings she hadn’t felt in so long, the soft even tone of his deep voice making her heart skip a beat and her panties dampen.

  Then kisses covered her cheeks, her forehead, her eyebrows. Her body hummed, her sex clenched, and her numb face began to tingle, coming to life by his butterfly-like beats across her hungry skin. Soon, she was moaning instead of hyperventilating and turning her face up to his grinning one.

  “There you are. You were falling into a pit of despair. I think I might’ve just pulled you out.” He winked. God, he was so gorgeous. Far more gorgeous than she could ever be. Far more gorgeous than she deserved. He must have sensed her darkening thoughts for he cupped her cheek. “Skyla. You gotta tell me, darlin’, why do you think so little of yourself?”

  “You haven’t seen me,” she repeated.

  “Then take your fuckin’ clothes off so I can.”

  She vigorously shook her head, pulling her arms across her chest.

  “You’re afraid?” Travis’s brow went up again. “Of me? I thought ADA Larson wasn’t afraid of anyone. Not even Giovanni Geraci.” Travis was fishing, but she wasn’t taking the bait, not with this. It was too important. “Tell me.”

  “It’s… it’s better if I just show you.”

  “You can show me, Skyla. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  Travis’s eyes held hers, and she pulled in a deep breath. A part of her was just as eager to share the burden she’d hidden most her life as she was anxious to reveal the secret.

  She laid back and began to unbutton her pants, peeling them down to her thighs. Her palms gripped her panties and slid them down with graceful ease. They began to come down her hips and shame, pain, and remorse filled her veins. “Look,” her plea was a whisper.

  She closed her eyes as he moved toward her and her stomach dropped as she heard his sharp intake of breath. Now he’d seen them. Her shame. Her scars. Her ugliness. The secret she could never truly conceal, only keep at bay.

  “Sky…you were a cutter?”

  She nodded tearfully and grabbed for her panties, only to come up short as Travis seized both her wrists in his big palm. She pulled, attempting to escape his grasp, but wasn’t strong enough to do so. He leaned down, examining the cuts she’d given herself twelve years ago, cuts that helped to ease the pain then but only added to it now, as she hated herself for the marks she would never be able to erase. Tears fell down the sides of her face, and she closed her eyes in deep regret as she felt Travis trace the long scars with his index finger.

  “Oh, Skyla. Baby,” he murmured and his head lowered. She felt his hot breath on the tender skin of her abdomen and his lips cover the marks. His kiss was gentle, sweet, forgiving, and she felt the love she’d always had for him swell inside her heart, threatening to burst it. She knew that if she died right this very second, she would die happy because he was acknowledging all the things she’d hated about herself for far too long, and he was accepting her for who she was, who she’d been, what she’d been freed from. Travis’s head came up and he looked at her. Not in pity, not in sadness, but in understanding, and if she hadn’t been in love with him a decade ago, she definitely was now—God help her.

  “This is why?” he asked. “This is why you think you’re ugly?” Skyla nodded. “Oh, my beautiful Aphrodite, scars don’t make you ugly. Scars are proof that we survived.”

  “I gave these to myself…when I hated who I was. It’s my reminder that I’ll never be beautiful.”

  “But you are beautiful. This is a reminder that you rose above what you thought were your shortcomings. Proof of how amazing you really are.”

  “Easy for you to say, you don’t have ugly marks covering your entire lower abdomen,” Sky retorted.

  “No. I don’t.” Travis rose up then moved off the couch to stand in front of her. “Mine aren’t on my torso.”

  Sky furrowed her brows in confusion and sat up as Travis began to unbutton his jeans. He unzipped himself, and Sky gawked as he peeled his pants down. Seeing him naked for the second day in a row was wreaking havoc on her womanhood, especially when his not-quite-flaccid penis was still incredibly impressive. But it was the marks he was pointing to on his upper left thigh that gave her pause. How had she missed seeing them last night? Oh, she’d been distracted by his ridiculously noteworthy cock!

  “These are from my old man. He was a violent drunk and took his aggressions out on me quite frequently. I got these when I pissed him off one night trying to defend my mom, and he decided I’d make a good ashtray. He purposely tried to burn me in the balls one night. That was the night he
realized I was getting to be just as strong as he was.” Travis’s lips tightened in anger, reproach, and hate.

  Skyla moved quickly, gently fingering the scars he loathed as equally as she loathed her own. Travis’s breath hissed through his teeth and at first, she was sure he would push her away and ask her to stop touching him there. This seemed too private, something about him she’d never known, never would’ve guessed. He seemed even more uncomfortable with his marks than she did hers, the wound still as raw as the day he’d received them. Hers had been self-inflicted, his were from someone who was supposed to love him unconditionally, someone who was supposed to have been protecting him, someone who’d broken his trust and his spirit at the same time. But it was utterly endearing that Travis had chosen to share this secret side of himself. It made Skyla love him all the more.

  Travis moaned softly as Sky leaned in and kissed the circular cigarette burns scarring his muscular thigh. He licked his lips as Skyla’s eyes looked up at his when she pulled back slightly.

  The desire within her to look at his growing shaft, which lay inches from her nose, was almost too much to resist. She longed to lick the head of him, taste him, get lost in the moment and let him take her as he’d intended to since the night in the bar; but something held her back, and she rose on her knees. He came back to the couch and moved toward her, inches from touching her.

  “This is why you wanted this,” he said as he motioned to the bottle of scotch in his hand. “You needed liquid courage tonight because you were hesitant for me to make love to you. Afraid for me to see the scars.”

  “I’d hoped to hide them from you… as long as I could.”

  His eyes narrowed and he looked hard into her eyes as if he were seeing her for the very first time. “You have no need to hide anything from me, Skyla. After tonight, there’ll be no more hiding.”