Free Voluptuous Vindication by Rose Wynters Page B

And unwanted.
     
    He stared at her, as if he considered not replying. After a moment, he nodded and said, “This is my home, as is the rest of the resort. I own it all, lock, stock, and barrel.” Coming from another man, it would have sounded like a brag. Coming from Ian, it was matter-of-fact. The luxury didn't appeal to him, one way or another.
     
    It appealed to her, though. She gasped, turning slowly to take in the sheer decadence of the room. Every comfort had been anticipated and provided for, leaving nothing to chance.
     
    Ian took off his coat and tossed it across the back of the leather sofa. “You act as if you haven't seen a penthouse suite before,” he said scathingly as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled them up his muscular forearms. “With your age, you must have amassed a lot of wealth. There's no need to flatter me. I'm sure you're used to every luxury available to man... And then some.”
     
    His words were so harsh Sara froze. If he only knew. Angels weren't sent down rich. They arrived with little more than the clothing on their backs. They were expected to mainstream with humans, finding jobs and blending in. Without college degrees, those jobs were almost always minimum wage. When their jobs were done they left, taking nothing with them. It was a completely different existence from the one that he knew.
     
    Sara swallowed back a harsh chuckle. Her past job titles included seamstress, maid, and waitress. Now she worked in a homeless shelter, barely earning enough to pay for the tiny, one-bedroom apartment she rented. The money didn't matter, though. The work she did was for purposes not of this world, and she was glad to do it. So what if she'd never been inside a penthouse before?
     
    Pulling her shoulders back, she pasted a serene, calm expression on her face. “Could you show me where I'm to sleep? I'm finding myself rather tired from the events of the night.” Her voice sounded  prim and proper, just the way an angel should sound.
     
    He ran a hand through his hair, the action making the loose, wavy curls on top of his head swing free. Sara stared for a moment, transfixed by the sheer perfection of his masculine face and physique. Ian had classic features, elegant and aristocratic. Would she ever cease gaping at him like a foolish schoolgirl with her first crush? Sara ignored the voice in her head reminding her that Ian was her first crush.
     
    A fluttering began in the base of her stomach. She pressed her free hand against it, unused to the sensation. Ian immediately noticed the action. “You still haven't ate,” he reminded her, picking up a menu from the bar. “And neither have I. Strangely enough, I find myself hungry.”
     
    “Why's that so strange?” She asked uncomfortably, waiting for him to show her to her room.
     
    He just shrugged, leading the way past the living room area. Opening another door, he revealed a bedroom. “Put your stuff in here, and then look at this menu. I'll call down for room service, and show you the bathroom. You can shower, or whatever you women like to do in there, while we wait for it.”
     
    “Thank you,” she replied stiffly. He stared at her for a moment longer, his expression thoughtful. Heat flooded her body as a blush stained her cheeks. Finally, he turned and walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him.
     
    * * * * *
     
    That night Sara dreamed of Ian, her body responding in a way her conscious mind wouldn't have allowed. He stopped by her bed, wearing an black silk robe. It was short in length, the front left wide open to reveal a chiseled, smooth chest. Underneath it he wore a pair of matching black boxers. The front was tented out, the fabric straining to contain the sheer size of the erection underneath.
     
    They failed. The boxers obviously weren't designed for a well-endowed man like him in mind. His erection pushed past the waist band, the crown wide in girth. Sara's body lit up like a match thrown on paper. Even in her