The shift shot her butt up in the air and threw off her balance. “I’m going to fall,” she said, grappling at the doorframe.

“No, you’re not. I’m too close to the wall for you to fall. Stop wiggling and relax.”

“I’m not . . . ahhh.” Imogen forgot what she had been about to say when he bent forward and deftly inserted his tongue inside her. “Oh, my God.”

He moved in and out, quick, swordlike thrusts that had her making sounds she hadn’t even known she was capable of. The soft moistness of his tongue, coupled with its width, tripped off shudders of ecstasy with each stroke. She could feel him so acutely inside her, his nose bumping against her clitoris.

Ty lifted her other leg up, so they were both on his shoulders. His hands were on the small of her back, and somehow between the wall and his grip, she didn’t seem to be in any danger of slipping down and smacking her head on the floor. Not that she really cared, because it was the hottest, most erotic position she had ever been in. It was kind of like riding on someone’s shoulders in reverse. The only way she could be more fully enveloping his face would be if she were sitting on it, and that would not have the added bonus of knowing it was his strength holding her up. Imogen turned her head side to side, held on, and let him do the most delicious things to her with his mouth while she regressed to a time before language, expressing her pleasure through whimpers and guttural groans.

There was no time, no awareness of the room, cold or hot, dark or light, just the feel of him and her taut, overstimulated body. There was just him, just his mouth, his hands, his breathing, his ability to strip away all her thoughts until she was empty except for the acute pleasure, all her focus on one spot, one spot only. The tightness was building in her again and she quieted down, feeling it sneaking up on her, wanting to reach for it, wanting to fall over into that explosion, but Ty pulled away abruptly and eased her legs to the ground.

She blinked at him. Holy shit. He had done it again, and she couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. “I was about to come.”

“I know.” He reached for her hand and stood up. “Come here. Wrap your legs around my waist.”

“I can’t. My legs don’t work.” She wasn’t lying. Her entire body felt boneless, and her calves were shaking from the strain they’d been placed under. Her inner thighs pulsed and ached in incompletion.

He didn’t bother to argue with her. He just swung her up into his arms with more urgency than gentleness and marched over to the bed. Imogen held on with what little strength she had left while he leaned over and yanked off the duvet one-handed, revealing cocoa-colored sheets, which he deposited her on. She was on her back, sideways on the bed, and he grabbed her knees and yanked her down so that her legs dangled over the side. He stepped in between her knees and pushed inside her.