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Now that Rodney is occupied, this monster hunter is keen to check out the hot pools.
I can’t help but smirk as I swing my leg over the bench and pass by my rescuer. He’s quite hot, in a gym-bro kind of way, all strong jaw and fancy workout gear. His dark hair is short on the sides but longer on the top in an artfully disheveled kind of way. Bronze skin, darker than any of the Bellua brothers even when they attempt to tan, glimmers with a fine layer of sweat. The tight tank top he wears does very little to hide his defined muscles and the tattoos lining the length of his arms.
And he has that delicious British accent.
I’d be into that if I weren’t here on a job and all flustered about the Bellua brothers.
Rodney has the guy’s tattooed arm jammed between his thighs and is massaging it all over, whistling his approval. The guy looks up at me with an expression of utter helplessness.
Now who’s the one who needs rescuing?
“It’s my hand that got hurt, not my biceps,” Hot British complains, trying to wiggle free.
“I think you need a Band-Aid, friend,” Rodney says with awe as he wraps his hands around the guy’s arm. “Because you arecut.”
I can’t help the snort of laughter that bursts out of me.
Old Man Rodney reluctantly releases his victim. He pats the guy on the shoulder as he stands to leave. “Keep up the good work, young sir,” he tells the guy. “One day you’ll be asrock hardas me.”
With that, Rodney picks up his toolkit and saunters away, his ass jiggling jauntily in his tiny shorts.
Hot British looks up at me as he rubs his arm gingerly. “Thanks for rescuing me.”
I can’t help the corners of my mouth pulling into a grin. “It looked like you and Rodney were handling things just fine.”
“Oh yes, we’re old friends now.” Hot British points to the basket of spray and microfiber cloths behind me. “Hand me that spray. I need to disinfect my arm.”
“Just cut it off and start over.” I shrug. “You can grow a new one, right?”
“Not this month,” he says with a nod, running a hand over his close-cropped dark hair. “My radioactive spider went on strike. Something about hazard pay for rescuing beautiful women from crazy old men in hotel gyms.”
I laugh again, and this time, his mouth tugs into an infectious grin. When he smiles, those pretty-boy smooth looks of his become something darker, more alluring. And that voice…as deep as the pits of hell, with that accent…
Dangerous.
I tell my legs that they need to keep moving, but they don’t obey.
Instead, I bite my lip. “Spider or not, I do appreciate the save. I’ll leave you to continue your medieval torture, or whatever it is you do on these machines—”
“I’m Levi.” He raises himself to his feet, towering over me with a long, lean body that definitely knows what it’s doing in a gym.
He’s not bulky like some of the gym rats back home; he’s the perfect combination of trim and defined, his stomach toned and his arms corded.
He extends his hand toward me—long fingers with perfect nails, an expensive gold watch around his wrist. “And you are?”
I look the guy over. He’s not my type at all—skin too smooth, voice too princely, smile too perfect, line of stubble along his strong jaw a littletoolickable.
No, scratch that. He’sexactlymy type, all clean and polished, and his last name isn’t Bellua. I assume.
“I’m Lily.” My name leaves my lips before I can stop it.
I grasp his hand, intending to crush his pretty fingers with my handshake, but the lightning bolt that shoots up my arm when he touches me shocks me so much that all I can manage is a limp jiggle. I step back, swallowing hard.
Get a grip, Lily. You hunt monsters for a living. You can handle talking to a cute guy.
“You’re new here, Lily,” Levi says. “I haven’t seen you around the hotel before, and trust me when I say I would remember you.”
“It’s my first…er, gym session. I checked in this morning.”
