Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Bookstore Temptation: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

The next morning, *Chapter & Soul* greeted a soft drizzle and the patter of rain on roofs. Lena Carter had just put the fresh pile of new arrivals on display when she noticed the sleek black automobile parked across the street.Her eyelids trembled shut once, twice, not certain if her heart missed a beat in surprise or for another reason.Julian Blackwood walked in like he owned the storm. Black coat, dark gloves, form-fitting suit that clung to him like a second skin. His eyes were hidden behind tinted glasses, but Lena could still feel the sear of his gaze.The bell above the door gave a gentle tinkle when he entered, the sound absurdly homey compared to the drama that swept in with him.“Mr. Blackwood,” she greeted, setting a hardback down. “You’re early for Aria. She’s not due for another hour.”He removed his glasses slowly, revealing those silver eyes that scanned the bookstore with practiced detachment before landing on her. His voice was low, gruff. “I’m not here for Aria.”Th

Julian Blackwood didn't *obsess*.Obsession was for weaker men—men who let feelings dictate their actions, who lost sight of the goal.He'd worked years to build a life based on discipline, icy ambition, and detachment.But no matter how many contracts he signed, how many deals he brokered, how many faceless women he took to bed and forgot by morning.Lena Carter haunted him.It was ridiculous.He hardly knows her.Despite this, nonetheless, he cannot help but feel the warmth on his fingertips at the point where she passed the coffee to him. Still in his head is the soft whisper of her voice. Still in his line of sight are the subtle curves of her neck as she turns to project her smile onto Aria's face.Julian stalked his office like a caged animal, his steps sharp and restless.The city skyline stared back at him through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gray and chilly, but it was no competition for the storm brewing under his skin.He required control once more.He needed to *obliter

Julian avoided the bookstore for three days.Three whole days.Within the well-constructed fortress of his life, that decision was logical. Avoid anarchy. Keep it contained.But logic wasn't a sufficient weapon against longing.He couldn't help but think of Lena Carter at the most inopportune times—during board meetings, conference calls, even when he worked out late at night, when sweat poured from his body but could not remove the thrumming under his skin.He recalled her smile, the small angle of her neck, the glint in her eyes when she discussed books as if they were people.And he thought about how close he'd come to touching her.To kissing her.To owning her.The thought should have made him recoil. He didn't do sweet. He didn't do dainty.But all he could think was *what would it be like to break her.*---On the fourth morning, Aria threw a fit at breakfast."I want to go see Miss Lena!" she wailed, arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury.Julian watched her, stone-faced, as

The next few days passed like a slow, careful dance. Julian came back. Again. And again. And again. Sometimes he bought a book. Sometimes he bought coffee. Sometimes he didn't buy anything at all — just haunted the aisles with hands stuffed in the pockets of his black, expensive coats, his burning eyes finding Lena every so often like a physical presence. Each time, Lena pretended it didn't affect her. Each time, she failed miserably.It was not just the way he looked — though God knew that was bad enough, all bottled strength and suppressed power wrapped in sinful beauty.It was the way he *looked* at her. As though she was a puzzle he couldn't solve but was determined to understand.As if he didn't think he could stop himself from reaching out and taking her.And maybe… she couldn't either.---It was Wednesday afternoon when he walked in next, catching her off guard. The door bell above the door jingled and Lena's head lifted reflexively, a smile already forming on her li

The rain had stopped sometime during the night, leaving Evershore glistening under a shroud of misty morning dew. The gutters were overflowing, the streets slick, the air sharp with the scent of wet asphalt and something almost new, almost clean.But inside Julian Blackwood's penthouse apartment, the world was far from clean.It was disheveled. Noisy. *Wrong*.Julian slumped on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, his fingers knotted in his dripping hair as if he could yank out the doubt eating away at him.What the hell was he doing?He'd kissed her. Touched her. Held her hand like a starving man clutching for something he didn't deserve.And Lena Carter—blessed, stupid Lena—had let him.She'd *wanted* him.It should have made him feel unstoppable.Instead, it left him with a sense of charlatanism.*You're poison,* the old voice spoke. *Everything you touch turns to ash.*Julian's eyes clamped shut, pushing the memories back. The cold hospital lights. The sharp odor of antisep