PASS INTERFERENCE (Gods of the Gridiron Book 3)

by Shanna Swenson

  Mics were shoved at them, and the crowd roared in the background. Numerous questions were flung their way, and Madi slowed her walk so that Pax could answer a couple. She nudged him with her elbow, as if to say, “Go ahead. We have a minute or so.”

  “Mr. Guthrie, are you excited about your mystery date tonight?”

  “Yes, I am. It’s my pleasure to serve our fine city, and if that means taking some time to enjoy the view,” he paused and looked over to a sexy little brunette next to the reporter, winking dramatically. She swooned, and the crowd went wild again. “And indulge one of them with my charms, then I’m the man for the job.”

  Another reporter with a mic and camera man shoved in next to the one Pax was talking to. “So, Poseidon, your fury has only started to be unleashed. You’ve already gotten three sacks, fifteen tackles, two forced fumbles, and a pass defended this season. What are you hoping to accomplish this weekend in Nashville?”

  “Let’s just say, I’ll be releasing the Kraken for sure.” He laughed, and Madi tugged on his elbow subtly, signaling for them to continue walking.

  They took a few more questions. Madi got a couple in regards to the organization and her husband, including, “Is his bedroom etiquette what’s honed Zeus’s thunderbolt throwing skills?”

  To which she teasingly replied with, “I tell you what: Zeus has never been more accurate.”

  The crowd loved that one; even Pax was shocked when Madi smirked up at him. Newlyweds!

  Neither Madi and Brett, nor Travis and Skyla, had gone public with their pregnancies. It was a team secret, and Pax liked being a keeper of ones so big. The ladies wanted to at least get through their first trimesters, for obvious reasons.

  The throng of ladies was dense as Madi and Paxton moved into the building and toward the podium set up on a stage. Pax continued to be floored. Where had all these lovely women been hiding? He would be sure to check his Instagram later so he could DM a couple of them who were probably tagging his account with pictures right that moment for future dates. He winked at a gorgeous African goddess to his left and grinned seductively at a redhead to his right.

  He sincerely hoped his date wasn’t the highly unattractive lady standing a few feet from the podium. If so, he was just gonna have to fake it til he made it—and possibly get drunk to get through this. He would be polite no matter what, he knew, but threw some good vibes up into the universe that the view he’d have all night wouldn’t be that of her.

  He reminded himself to be cordial, even if his date wasn’t the hottest chick in the room. He was a nice guy. He wasn’t like Travis. Yeah, Pax was a little cocky—hell, he’d sacked a shit ton of quarterbacks recently and had received the title of Poseidon for God’s sake. Of course he was somewhat self-assured; how could he not be? But he was also a lover of nature, the ocean, meditation, and sunsets. He had a more artistic, more romantic side than most of his teammates…or so he thought, anyway. He was more in touch with his feminine side and the guys always made fun of him for eating his “rabbit food” and drinking “fermented shit.” He was constantly reminding them that beer and booze were fermented too. But he knew it didn’t matter.

  Paxton Guthrie was confident in his sexuality and in himself. Their words and badgering didn’t bother him. He loved his teammates, and they loved him. And even if he had no intentions of getting married—ever—he loved their ladies, too. They were all like family and, since Hunter Thomas had passed, Pax realized just how short life was.

  He smiled at Madi as he escorted her up the steps and to the podium. The room was doused in crimson and gold, the Gladiators logo, as well as that of Atlanta Children’s Hospital—ACH.

  Madi shushed the crowd with her hands and laughed heartily. She was so good with the media and so professional. “Down, girls.” That got a laugh out of the camera crew, the organizers, and the crowd. Pax played his part with a shrug. “I want to thank you all for your support of a great cause. You’ve raised two million dollars in a week. That’s a lot of money. All so you can have a chance with the studly Poseidon here.” Cheers, applause, and screams echoed in the crowd; it was deafening. Madi shushed them down again with a laugh. “Paxton Guthrie is quite a catch, I have to say.” Madi winked over at him, and he dramatically feigned a blush and shyness. “And here in a minute, we’re gonna draw the name of the lucky lady who’ll get to spend the next two hours with him, have dinner with him at The Palms, and get to know what makes Poseidon salty and sweet,” Madi purred. Pax almost rolled his eyes but smiled instead as she made her way back to his side.

  “Way to pump me up, boss,” he whispered as she pulled him in for a hug.

  “You’re up, merman.”

  He kissed her cheek and released her, puffing his chest out as he walked toward the podium.

  He grinned to the audience and when he got to the mic, the crowd shelved it immediately. He decided to bring his charm out. “Hello, ladies.” Swoons answered him, and he laughed heartily. “Seriously though, I’m floored at the responses this week. I just want to thank you for your charitable donations. I see the women of Atlanta love their Gladiators.” Cheers and applause answered him. “And their children’s hospital. I’m looking forward to taking the lucky winner out and making her feel like a goddess.” Hoots and cat calls. Pax grinned even as Madi warned him with her eyes to “watch it,” as he returned to her side.

  “Just remember this goddess won’t be getting your lips or your manhood tonight,” she whispered.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He mimicked a southern drawl, and Madi rolled her eyes.

  The homely woman took the podium, and Pax secretly hoped she wouldn’t be part of the drawing. She, too, thanked everyone and began pulling a big box over with the names, assumedly.

  When she called out the name, “Rebecca Ryan,” Pax held his breath, but no one answered. Ms. Vulture quieted the crowd and said the name again. Nothing. Pax looked around then down at Madison, who shrugged. Again, Rebecca Ryan was called and finally a sheepish little voice returned, “I’m here.”

  Pax’s gaze was drawn to the woman now moving slowly down the red-carpet runner below. She had flawless, porcelain skin, black-framed glasses, and dark ribbons of hair framing a round face. But it was her body that he couldn’t take his eyes off of. She was petite but built— like a petite, little brick dollhouse. She had curvy hips and good-sized breasts whose cleavage teased the V-neckline of a black, silk dress that came to her knees. Her legs were lean and muscular, and she wore a pair of fuck-me heels. Damn! This is my date?

  The ugly woman took Rebecca’s hands as she approached and congratulated her. Rebecca’s cheeks reddened, and Pax felt somewhat humbled.

  She had that whole sexy-librarian-closet-sex-freak vibe going on. Pax was very pleased.

  “Well, so far so good, right?” Madi whispered.

  “Yeah, about that no sex thing?” Pax teased, and Madi elbowed his side again.

  “I will chop your man parts off if you even think—”

  “Just kidding, mama bear. Relax.”

  “Mr. Guthrie, would you like to come meet your date for the evening?” Ms. Vulture asked, and Pax nodded eagerly.

  “Would I? Look at this stunning goddess.” He approached and beckoned to Rebecca’s hands. She gaped up at him, her lips opening in an O around her lip gloss. He smiled big. “Ladies, I’ve made her speechless already. It’s gonna be a long night.” He smirked, and she gulped. Finally, she looked down to his hands, comprehending that he wanted to hold them, and slowly brought them up, placing the small, delicate phalanges in his much, much bigger ones.

  Pax felt a little jolt spike through him and heard Rebecca gasp softly. He looked into her eyes.

  Wow, they were so green, like the greenest-green, hazel with specks of yellow and gold; deep, guarded, an enigma of secrets he longed to explore.

  Soon, he heard laughter, and Ms. Vulture was saying, “Earth.” She looked annoyed.

  Pax smirked. “I’m now the one speechless,” he said to the laug
hing audience then looked back at Rebecca. “I’m Pax, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Rebecca.” She, again, looked like she would die from the mortification. Pax couldn’t wait to get her away from the crowd so he could tap into that quiet side and learn more about her.

  Vulture lady thanked Rebecca for her donations and handed the mic off to Paxton, who seemed to handle the public much easier than little Ms. Introvert Becca next to him. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve got a hot date to go on so thanks for everything and Go Gladiators.”

  Madi waved them toward her amidst the deafening crowd as mics and cameras were shoved back toward them. Pax’s hand settled against Rebecca’s smooth, bare back, making his dick jerk to life. Down boy, you gotta play it soft tonight. No fun for you, Pax told himself.

  Despite what he was telling Quil just Monday night about the ladies, it wasn’t entirely true. He’d been having issues lately. Not with women or dates or strip clubs, but getting erections. The last time he’d had sex, like a month ago, he’d only pretended to finish. The hot blonde with fake breasts and long fingernails hadn’t been doing it for him, and he just couldn’t continue to abide it. He figured he’d just been tired or overworked from practice and stress of the season, Hunter’s death, the pressures of life. He’d made up all these excuses for his twenty-five-year-old body to not respond to a beautiful woman, but deep down, he knew he just wasn’t impressed with fakeness any longer.

  Women had been throwing themselves at him for years, and he’d graciously taken what had been offered—well not all that had been offered. But now he was stuck in a rut. He loved women—looking at them, hearing their voices—but he was bored.

  And as he looked shy, petite Rebecca over, he quickly saw that there was nothing boring about her. She looked new and fresh; nothing superficial. Light makeup, real boobs, no cosmetic surgical procedures. Just a real, genuine woman… Yeah not! She’d donated a huge chunk of money for a date with him—Damn, Pax, your radar on people sucks!

  Madison turned and smiled at Rebecca, introducing herself as they were ushered to yet another limo sitting out back of the building; she opened the car door. “Madison McFadden, thank you for your support.”

  “It’s an honor, Mrs. McFadden.”

  Madi just deepened her smile and turned to Pax. “Have fun, you two. Pax, call me later.” Paxton opened his palm, signaling for Rebecca to get in first, and she slid in.

  “Keep your dick in your pants tonight, Pax. I’m not fuckin’ kiddin’,” Madi whisper-growled in his ear as she kissed his cheek.

  Pax’s brows went up, Madi wasn’t one for swearing, so he knew she was dead serious. If she knew his little problem, she would know there was no need to worry. But he nodded diligently anyway and stepped into the limo to enjoy his hot date for the evening, Rebecca.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rebecca Ryan attempted to swallow down her nervousness as dream-boat Paxton Guthrie slid into the limo beside her, and the car began to move. Her sister, Veda, had been the one to encourage this, and now she was sure she would faint as her celebrity crush settled next to her and gave her a big grin.

  God, he was even more attractive in person than on the telly—and so much bigger. At six-four, two-sixty, he was a powerhouse—built like a tank. Hell, he ate QBs for breakfast. What had she expected? What she hadn’t expected was how soft his features were and how beautiful he was without the serious expression he wore on game day; of course she’d seen him smiling during interviews and seen pictures of him out of uniform—more jovial when he wasn’t primed to destroy a player. But this—this was even better than what she could’ve dreamed.

  His deep blue eyes assessed her, not as if she were being held helplessly under a microscope, but in a way that had her body tingling. Did he like what he saw? She ran her eyes back over his face, admiring his bone structure. He had the face of a warrior with a strong square jaw and high cheekbones, a long, straight nose that had possibly been broken a time or two. His lips were plump and enticing and his shoulder-length blond hair—usually worn down on game days—was back in a ponytail, making him look regal and from a simpler time. His neck was thick and showed his strength as he swallowed.

  “You’re quiet even in private,” he said with a brief laugh.

  “Sorry, I—I’m just star-struck is all.”

  “Well, I promise I do the same things all people do. I binge-watch Netflix and occasionally eat ice cream when doing so. Oh, and I also play video games.”

  Rebecca’s brows went up in surprise. He seemed like he wouldn’t even own a TV. He appeared too primal for life’s nonsense, but she reminded herself he wasn’t a hero from one of her books or Jamie from Outlander, so she came back to reality. “And you like to surf?”

  “I do. But I haven’t surfed since May when I was back home during the off-season.”

  Rebecca gave him an understanding smile.

  “So you must be a big fan, huh?”

  Big fan was an understatement; she was obsessed with him. She’d never even watched football until she’d seen him on TV one Sunday last year while Veda was watching a game. He reminded her of Thor and Jamie Fraser rolled into one fine hunk of a man. Her breath had stilled when he’d started talking, his deep voice as smooth as silk. Veda had teased her and said, “Looks like you’ll be watching football with me finally, huh?” And Rebecca had, the entire game, looking for Number 52. Boy, was he an impressive specimen of a man when he was on the hunt. She’d been completely entranced—as she was now—by the magnitude of his overwhelming presence.

  When Veda had seen the ad earlier this week, she’d pushed Rebecca to donate.

  “We don’t have that kind of money, Vey!”

  “Becca, you don’t need tons of money. We’ll donate a vast number of pennies, and you’ll get an entry for each one.”

  And so they had; it’d really been a clever idea. Rebecca had begrudgingly taken out one-hundred-dollars from her savings, reminding her twin that amount of money could buy so much, but Veda hadn’t taken no for an answer. It was all Becca could afford under the circumstances since she, her mom, and her sister were on a tight budget. It didn’t help their cause that Veda was constantly getting fired for her sassy mouth and flippant behavior…as well as her outrageous sense of style.

  $100 equated to 10,000 pennies for 10,000 entries, of which Becca was sure was cheating. But apparently, she’d been the only one who’d done so. Much to her shock and amazement, it was completely “within the contest guidelines” and “smart,” the lady who’d taken her donation had said. The donation was also for a good cause, and Becca and Veda volunteered weekly at the children’s hospital. They’d lost their sister to Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma just as they might lose their mother to the same disease, if these last treatments didn’t work.

  Rebecca noticed Mr. Drop-Dead-Gorgeous looking at her expectantly, and she blushed, realizing she hadn’t answered his question about being a fan. She tended to be spacey at times, her mind going to all kinds of thoughts randomly. “Oh, I apologize. Yes, I am a big fan. I mean, I wasn’t until last year. But I’ve watched you ever since.”

  “Me, huh? And what about the games?” His brows rose, and she could have all out swooned over how sexy he was.

  “Pardon?” Rebecca gave him a funny look. What was he asking?

  “You said you watch me, not my games,” he smirked.

  “Well, no. I mean, yes. I mean—” Jesus, Mary and Joseph, how was she ever going to get through this night? She couldn’t even have a conversation with the man without stumbling all over herself. This was a bad idea, she told herself for the millionth time.

  Paxton gave a robust laugh. “Becca, I’m only kidding. I’m flattered, honestly.” His hand came to rest on her own, and her heart literally leapt into her throat. Great, now I’m gonna choke on my own heart! “I can call you Becca, right?”

  She nodded, gulped and stammered with, “Of-of course. Everyone else does.”

  “I like your dress.�
�

  He looked down and so did Becca, feeling completely exposed as her milky-white breasts threatened to spill out of Veda’s ridiculously tight V-neck dress. Her thighs were also more uncovered than was typical for her.

  She felt completely self-conscious; her fair, almost ghostly, complexion was stark white in comparison to his perfectly sun-kissed skin. She gulped and attempted to readjust the material in a vain effort. Her tits were apparently not gonna be sharing the fabric with the rest of her body. Of course he liked the dress!

  “What do you do for a living, Rebecca?”

  It took her a minute to regain her composure. After all, men didn’t usually look at her the way Paxton was right now, and she didn’t usually have normal conversations with the ones she’d met in the past. She was a dorky historian who attracted other dorky historians.

  “I, uh, I’m a historian and tour guide at the Atlanta Museum of Natural History.”

  “Oh wow, that’s cool. History’s fun.”

  “Fun? History’s fascinating, awe-inspiring, and incredibly influential for those that study it. There’s much we can learn from it; it foretells the future and forewarns of repetition, if only people would pay more attention. History, from what I’ve gathered, is cyclical; it tends to come full circle again and again. There’s an entire socio-philosophical theory about it and can be traced all the way back to ancient times…”

  Becca knew she wasn’t the only one to come to such conclusions, but felt her cheeks heat as Pax smirked over at her. She realized she’d lost him somewhere during her socio-philosophic babble. She tended to get tunnel-vision when she spoke of her work.

  “Any favorite time frames?” Paxton asked after a moment.

  “All of them!” she spat out passionately, getting a hearty chuckle out of Pax. “Sorry, I, uh—”