Page 166 of Invisible Bars

Not a thank-you kiss. Not a soft one either. That one had weigh—heat. There was no hesitation, just hunger. The second our lips touched, it felt like something unspoken finally snapped.

I felt him tense for a second, then melt into it. Imanio groaned low in his chest, deep and ragged, like he’d been starving for the taste of me. His hand slid around to grip my neck, firm but tender, while the other dropped to my waist and pulled me flush against him. His mouth moved over mine like he owned it, like he was staking his claim.

Imanio’s tongue tangled with mine, slow at first, then deeper—messier, wetter—until my breath hitched and my thighssqueezed together without permission. His fingers gripped me tighter as he groaned into my mouth, a low sound that made my knees wobble. When he backed me into the side of the car, I felt everything—the hardness pressing against me, the flex of his grip as he palmed my ass through my slacks and the way his body pinned me like he was daring me to move.

My hands slid up his chest, feeling the tightness of his muscles. His teeth grazed my bottom lip before sucking it, slow and filthy, making my head fall back against the cool glass. Then… a tic.

“Don’t you dare bring back the mullet!”

Imanio laughed so hard he bent over slightly, shaking his head.

“Yo… you really just killed the moment with a hair emergency?”

I laughed. “Sorry!”

Imanio pulled me back in, but that time his kiss was softer… slower.

“Dess is right, though. You look too beautiful to let this look go to waste,” he murmured, brushing a curl from my cheek. “I want to take you somewhere.”

“Wh-Where?”

He pulled out his phone, already dialing. “To my yacht. I’ma have a few of my on-call chefs to meet us there. We’re going to have the dinner we were supposed to have… just you and me, though. It’s gonna take us about forty-five minutes to get there. You cool with that?”

I nodded, still breathless from the kiss. My lips tingled, and my body felt like it hadn’t come down yet.

“Yes.”

I couldn’t get over his cologne. It hit me the second he stepped into the hallway—smooth, smoky, dark. It didn’t justsmellgood… itlingered, like danger dressed in luxury. It was thekind of scent that made a person glance twice, then feel stupid for looking away.

While Imanio spoke on the phone, I couldn’t stop watching him. The subtle flex of his jaw when he gave directions. The casual hand in his pocket. The way the other hand held the phone, fingers long, knuckles marked with power. Imanio looked like he owned the night, his mama’s house, and the whole damn city.

I caught myself nibbling my bottom lip. I didn’t mean to—but my eyes dropped to his chest, the way his shirt hugged his frame.

Imanio didn’t miss it either.

His eyes cut toward me for half a second—sharp, dark, and knowing. Then he smirked; the kind of smirk that said,Yeah, I saw you, and I’m not about to let it slide.

After a brief conversation in low, commanding tones—giving specific instructions about seafood, wine, and making sure the dessert tray wasperfect—he leaned in close enough for only me to hear.

“That look in your eyes better be about the food,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with heat. “’Cause if it ain’t, we got a problem.”

“Yup! I’m starving!” I said sharply.

Imanio pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes—his gaze slow, dark, and unreadable.

“For what, though?” He licked his lips.

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

And that silence?That was my answer.

Imanio smirked—barely.

“Thought so.”

Instead of dragging me in the car like my body might’ve wanted, he stepped back, opened the door with one hand, and gave me a look that pinned me right where I stood.

“Get in. You’re not ready for me… not like that… not tonight.”