Beckon

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  Prologue

  He strode through the exclusive club, his footsteps ringing through the empty marble hallway. Pulling at his silk tie, he checked his wristwatch. He was late, a very unusual occurrence.

  He found the nondescript door that would lead to his fantasies. The ones he thought of all day during the meetings and cutthroat dealings and maneuvers. He paused at the door and harnessed the excitement galloping through his veins. Excitement was one thing he hadn’t felt in years. Until recently.

  It was more than the promise of physical fulfillment that fueled his anticipation. He was intensely in love with the woman of his dreams. It didn’t make sense. He barely knew the woman, and knew nothing about her life outside their encounters. He cared for the other women in his life, but nothing to this degree. He wouldn’t give up everything—his wealth, his freedom, his life—to anyone else other than the mysterious woman behind the door.

  Perhaps his love felt intense because it could not be revealed. That would undermine his position. If he showed any hint of becoming an indulgent lover, her trust in him would falter. When she sought him out months ago, it was because he could handle her while other men would cave in to her demands.

  She was a demanding lover. A challenging woman. His self-control had been tested many times. And each time he succeeded, it gave him a blinding euphoria unlike any orgasm. He needed her just as much as she needed him.

  He needed her now. At this moment. But the impatience would be his downfall. Waiting until the painful need dulled into a consistent throb, he swung the door open and entered the room. His sharp gaze zoomed to the corner as his heartbeat kicked.

  She was there. Leaning her shoulder against the wall, waiting for him.

  His chest felt constricted, like hot bands of steel were twisting around him. His reaction concerned him. He knew she would be here. It didn’t matter if he had been early, late or a no-show. She would have been here and stayed.

  He covertly studied her as he pushed the door closed with his foot. Her pale blonde hair fell ramrod straight past her shoulders. The silky white blouse, black linen skirt and heels should have appeared prim, but the hectic flush in her pale skin gave her away.

  She pushed away from the wall and walked to the middle of the room, assuming the subservient position. Clasping her hands in front of her, she dipped her head down. Her eyes should have been cast down to the floor with absolute reverence and trust, but he could see her watching him.

  His mouth twitched with knowing. She was a mix of casual and conservative. Deference and defiance. He had to strip it down until she couldn’t do anything but follow his lead.

  He walked towards her. Slowly. Steadily. Her chest rose and fell in time with each step. He didn’t speak until he stood toe to toe with her. He watched her nipples tighten behind the silk blouse.

  “You aren’t naked,” he finally said. His husky voice boomed in the empty room. It wasn’t what they agreed upon, but that didn’t matter. He had to keep her guessing, keep her off-balance until she gave up relying on her instincts and followed his.

  She flinched at his greeting. Her eyes flickered up. Realizing she was about to make a mistake by giving eye contact, she lowered her lashes. Her smooth forehead wrinkled with confusion. “No, but…”

  “I didn’t ask for excuses,” he cut her off, his tone indifferent. “I didn’t tell you to speak. Go stand in the corner.”

  She winced. The undignified form of punishment obviously made her hackles rise. But she turned around and walked to the corner she had just left, her heels clicking against the hard floor.

  He waited until her shoulders bumped the joining walls. Discomfort shimmering off of her in waves, but she did not bow her head. She faced at the wall head-on, her chin tilted with pride.

  “Very good,” he decided and moved towards her. He didn’t want to destroy her pride, although it would make his role easier. However, her dignity made her all the more challenging. More appealing. “Turn around and face me.”

  She complied immediately. Her eyes widened as he swiftly leaned in and surrounded her. “Next time, no excuses,” he told her. He watched her intently, waiting for the excuse bubbling on her tongue, the fire leaping in her eyes. None came.

  Satisfaction swelled in his chest. She was becoming better at accepting his word. Now for the next demand. “I want you naked.” By the end of the night, all she would see and hear was him. Touch nothing but his body. Taste only his sweat and skin.

  Her hands fluttered to the collar button.

  “I didn’t tell you to move,” he reminded her in a dangerously low voice. He knew she wanted him to take charge. To be in absolute control. He wanted it just as badly. Only he had the strength to follow through.

  She wanted to submit wholeheartedly, enough to deal with the devil. But at the moment of truth, her fears gain power and she instinctively wrestled for control. But she couldn’t take control from him. No one could.

  The knowledge fizzed through his blood and transmuted into something more primal. Base. He raised his hand and hooked his fingers into her blouse. With a clawing, savage pull, he ripped her blouse.

  The rendering of silk and her gasp filled the air, electrifying it until the room pulsed with need.

  He gathered the strips of silk with his fists as lust slashed his gut. The sight of her pale, full breasts and tight nipples beckoned him to forget about self-control. To dive in to her curves and indulge.

  His fingers grazed her hardening nipples. When she pressed her lips together and arched for his touch, his penis swelled…in response.

  “Cup your breasts,” he ordered hoarsely.

  She hesitantly shielded her nipples from his eyes.

  “Rub your hands all over them.”

  His blood roared in his ears as she skimmed her hands under her breasts, pushing the small mounds together, deepening her cleavage. He gritted his teeth as she began to rub in earnest. She palmed her hard, rosy peaks and pressed her lips together as the reddened skin puckered under his gaze.

  “Tug at your nipples,” he ordered gruffly. His hands trailed down her hips with a proprietary slowness. His hands skimmed the V above her legs, basking in the heat as his attention stayed on her bared breasts.

  She plucked at her nipples with her fingers and thumbs. The rose colored skin grew cherry red as she began to roll the crinkled peaks with growing eagerness.

  His fingers were desperate to take over. He could easily imagine the firm nipples yielding under his fingertips. “Make them tight,” he ordered nonchalantly as a fiery desire build inside him.

  She tweaked as he commanded, her hands fluttering at her breasts. He could feel his skin tightening against his face as he maintained an untouched image. “Tighter…” he said, his hands purposefully gathering the hem of her skirt.

  “Tighter…” He teased her by grazing his fingertips on her bare legs, leisurely drawing circles behind her knees. She copied his move with desperate, hurried strokes, tracing her taut nipples.

  He lowered his head until his mouth hovered the gentle slope. “Offer them to me.” His hot breath wafted her chest. Goosebumps prickled her skin.

  She thrust her breasts to his mouth. Her body shivered with expectation. Her spine was tight, preparing for the onslaught of sensations.

  He wanted to devour her offering. He was tempted to take everything right now and offer her pleasure. Worship
her body with his hands and mouth until she knew exactly how much he loved and adored her.

  A droplet of sweat streamed down his back and he opened his mouth and flattened his tongue against her hard nipple. His mouth begged to suckle her breast. He wanted to fill his mouth with her small breast. Brand her with his teeth marks.

  Feeling the alarming slip of control, he pulled back. She did not want his adoration. She wanted his harshness. Trying to remember that, he moved to the other breasts and sampled, determined not to linger. He heard the groan rumbling in her chest as his lips dragged away from her.

  With an infinite patience he didn’t know he possessed, he crept the skirt hem up her bare legs, slowly exposing her pale, glistening curls.

  Her breath hitched in her throat as the warm air clashed with her swollen softness. He cupped her, closing his eyes and he luxuriated in her steamy heat. She shuddered as he stroked her puffy, greedy flesh. He thumbed her engorged bud. She bit her plush bottom lip, but the keening cry escaped.

  He was ready to rip open his trousers and sink into her. Instead, he gently slipped his finger into her wet channel. She slapped her hands against the wall as he pumped her. Faster. Coarser. Until his hand burned from the heat and was fragrant with her dew.

  She spread her legs wider. Her hips twitched and rolled as he slipped inside another finger. She tossed her head back. Her pale hair veiled her flushed face as she gasped the hot, musky air.

  He watched as she grabbed and pinched her breasts. The jagged red streaks declared the passion erupting from her skin. She reached for him, her hands skittering across his jacket before capturing the lapels. Her body tightened as her moan escalated.

  The glorious transformation unfurled before his lust filled eyes. The prim lady became a woman filled with passion. The soft-spoken voice warbled with a lusty cry as she climaxed.

  He drove his fingers into her again and again. He wanted her to keep climbing. Keep reaching. He wanted her to discover the feminine power inside, the secret force that only he seemed able to uncover.

  Her gentle mouth hung open as she tried to regain her breath. She blinked open her eyes. A shadow of something undefined chased the glimmer of satisfaction from her blue eyes. She ducked her head.

  “I didn’t tell you to come,” he teased as his heart pounded fiercely.

  A vivid blush crept up from her chest to her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Next time, wait for me.” He didn’t trust himself to touch her at the moment, not when he wanted to gather into his arms give her everything her body craved. He stepped back and removed his hand. She whimpered from the loss.

  “Unzip my pants.”

  She jerked into action, fumbling with the belt loosened. The metal buckle clanged as she grabbed for the zipper.

  “Careful,” he reminded her tersely. “Get on your knees.”

  She awkwardly knelt down and gently lowered the zip, revealing inch by inch the smooth, hard penis. He tensed as wisps of her hot breath bathed him. Her soft fingers grazed the root of his penis and nestled into his wiry, dark hair.

  He knew it was no accident. She was trying to test him. To see how much she could get away with. To discover how much power she had over him.

  He swallowed roughly, doing his best not to hiss with pleasure. “Do that again, and I’ll end this session right now,” he threatened softly.

  She dropped her hands away immediately.

  “Stand up and open your legs for me. Now.” The ‘now’ was unnecessary as she already scampered into a standing position and widened her stance, offering him a view that left nothing to the imagination.

  She wasn’t very good at following directions, he decided as he grabbed the back of her thighs and hooked her legs over his hips. But he was willing to be a patient and thorough teacher, no matter how long it took. The longer the better. Then she will know that he owned her mind, body and soul.

  Chapter One

  The St. Louis Gateway Arch gleamed under the moon. Amir tried not to stare at the awesome sight. He pulled his gaze away from the corporate office windows that overlooked the Mississippi River. He was here to celebrate the closing of a business deal, not sightsee.

  Amir silently listened to the man in front of him discussing mutual funds. The topic usually roused passionate feelings in Amir. But not tonight. His eyes drifted back to the silver monument, wondering what beckoned him to the famous architecture.

  The steel appeared incredibly pale, bending towards then away from the moonlight. Reflecting the blinding brilliance while at the same time accepting and muting it, transforming the light into something warm and infinitely beautiful.

  A lot like Noukrani.

  Amir gritted his teeth as he checked his thoughts. He harnessed his traveling mind and tried to forget about the woman who caused him so much agony.

  The people surrounding him continued talking as if nothing was amiss. They jockeyed for his attention, panting for a brief word of praise. After all, he was the president of Amir Khan Investments. He commanded the world around him as head of his company and leader of his dynastic family. He lived the life men envied and he had his pick of women.

  All except her, of course.

  He’d had her once, for a short while. She’d accepted his power; welcomed it. She had appeared so fragile, but she had a power all her own. He hadn’t fully appreciated her quiet force until it was too late.

  And then she vanished. For weeks Amir searched with no results. He culled his memory, trying to find any hidden message or sign. Nothing. She left without a trace just as he fell in love with her.

  Fell in love.

  What a ridiculously tame phrase. It was more of a crashing blow. A pain he would gladly endure every day if it meant having her by his side.

  Amir winced. Do not think of her, he ordered harshly. It would be foolhardy. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking of Noukrani, which was a clear indication of how much his self-control slipped in the past three months. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. He made errors. His bewildered family watched as rebellious relatives slipped through his fingers without judgment.

  If only he could figure out why she’d left. Why she’d caught him by surprise. If he got the answers, he’d stop feeling so…vulnerable. He hated the word. He hated the feeling. He wanted to shake the vulnerability off like snowflakes. Then he could regain his confidence.

  But he would never find out the true reason for her disappearance. And if she returned, she had reasons – unknown and unspoken – for not wanting him. He would learn to deal with the memory of her. Deal with how everything from Chanel No. 5 to the arch of silver steel reminded him of her.

  Amir gave a last sideways glance at the Arch. The sleek monument had the same coloring, same polished, glossy exterior as the woman of his dreams. The same steely cold inside.

  He determinedly looked away and concentrated on the man speaking. Amir nodded and absently swirled the whiskey in his glass. As he sipped the straight amber liquid, a shot of silver caught his attention.

  The Arch’s reflection, Amir decided swiftly. Must be hell trying to get anything done around here.

  His dark eyes followed the silver. It was an automatic response. He was a man who was aware of his surroundings, always noticing and mentally filing what was going on around him.

  The whiskey on his tongue evaporated as the silver reflection rippled.

  His heart imploded in his chest. It was she.

  No, it couldn’t be. He inhaled sharply, attempting to clear his mind, accepting the slicing pain in his lungs.

  Amir looked away and then looked back. His hand clenched the whisky glass until his knuckles whitened.

  She was still there.

  Or was she? Had he conjured up her apparition? Had all the mind games he’s played made him go slowly mad?

  He squeezed his eyelids shut and blasted them open.

  She was real. He widened his eyes until they burned. She was here. In St. Louis. In the same room. Why?


  To hell with those questions. It didn’t matter right now. His heart pumped slowly as if his blood turned to sludge. He could hear his pulse thundering in his ears.

  The only thing that mattered was what he was going to do about it.

  * * * * *

  Belinda stepped back in the corner of the room. Why did she always think she saw him in a crowd? Every time she saw a tall man with luxuriant black hair, her heart flinched.

  Her heart still hadn’t figured it out that he would not come after her. He would never seek her out. She was an unimportant facet of his life. She’d come to that conclusion long ago.

  Which didn’t explain why she was hugging the quiet corner because she thought she saw him.

  “You okay?” Ryan asked, cupping her elbow with a concerned hand.

  Belinda plastered a friendly smile on her face. Ryan, her next-door neighbor, had the making of becoming a good friend. Only he wanted to be something more. Belinda knew she should give him a chance, should forget the past and start living.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she replied hoarsely. Her body was still flushed to the wall.

  Ryan tilted his head and studied Belinda. “Would you like something to drink?”

  She nodded. “Water.” Her throat felt dry and on fire.

  “I’ll be right back.” He gave her a quick, affectionate squeeze to her elbow before stepping away.

  Belinda watched as the crowd of professionals swallowed him up. What was she doing here? She wished she were at home in her flannel pajamas eating ice cream from the carton. Okay, so that’s what she’s been doing since she ran back home to St. Louis. She needed to get out and stop feeling sorry for herself.

  A movement caught her eye.

  Damn, that looks just like him. She shook her head in self-disgust. She had to stop doing that. Had to stop hoping.

  She met him at a party similar to this. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but she remembered it vividly. It was the only time a man left her breathless with one white-hot intense glance.