Tamara Mataya is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, a librarian, and a musician with synesthesia. Armed with a name tag and a thin veneer of credibility, she takes great delight in recommending books and shushing people. She puts the 'she' in TWSS and the B in LGBTQIA+.
This book is set in Miami, so I wanted songs to bring the heat, but also give me something to groove to. Fun, flirty, sexiness, and nothing too dark. I definitely listened to some more than others, but they all got their turn in my headphones.
1. Keep You by Wild Belle
2. Days Like That (Radio Edit) by Sugar Jones
3. No Way No by Magic!
4. Smooth by Santana feat. Rob Thomas
5. Prayer In C Robin Schulz Radio Edit by Lily Wood and The Pricks
6. The Walker by Fitz And The Tantrums
7. Buttons by The Pussycat Dolls
8. Get It On Tonight by Montell Jordan
9. Let’s Ride by Montell Jordan
10. Say it Right by Nelly Furtado
11. Crazy In Love by Sofia Karlberg
12. One Step Forward by Max Romeo
13. Made Of by Sizzla
14. I Am The Best by 2NE1
15. Berlin Acoustic by Sofia Karlberg
Free-spirited beach-dweller looking to Switch lives with outgoing urbanite.Sense of adventure mandatory.Clothing optional.One email away from a total meltdown, I'm desperate to escape New York. Using Switch—a website designed to help strangers swap homes for the summer—I slip out of my stilettos and into a string bikini. But of all the beaches in all the world, Blake Wilde just had to show up on mine. He's hot. Scorching hot. And he's been strictly off-limits for as long as I can remember.To hell with that. New life? New rules.I know something this good can't be made to last. But for three sizzling weeks, I can pretend there won't be consequences, recriminations, or regret... And that somehow our growing connection can be more than just a summer fling.
Check out the Summer Love series:
He’s turned my blood to warm caramel. It oozes slowly through my body, leaving nothing but sweetness pulsing to the beat of my heart. I feel…delicious.
Blake’s hands have nothing on his tongue—and his hands are sinfully devastating. His lips burn a trail, inch by inch, up my belly. Sated as I am, when he reaches my collarbone I’m lit up with the need for more of that mouth. More of those hands.
More of everything.
His body blankets mine, skin on skin. It covers me with his warmth and the weight of a thousand imagined fantasies finally come to life. His dark eyes melt me, and the proximity and the light streaming into the room kick up flecks of gold and green I’ve never noticed before. I’m about to idiotically mention them when he buries his hand in my hair, cradling my head and lifting me into a deep, unhurried kiss. Heat unfurls slowly in my belly, like the petals of an exotic flower I’ve only seen in pictures and never touched until now.
I uncurl under his touch, against his body, opening for more.
How many times did I dream of these hands meandering up my thigh and touching me? How many nights did I lie in bed, tortured by the lilting cadence of his voice just next door in Shawn’s room and pretending Blake was whispering sweet nothings in my ear?
Pretending he was hesitating outside my room, and any moment he’d come inside and gently shut the door if only I wished hard enough.
Padding across my beige carpet, losing articles of clothing as he progressed.
Whispering my name as he sat on the edge of my bed.
Crawling under the covers with me when I lifted the blanket in invitation.
Spooning me from behind, gently petting my skin with those hands that had always seemed too large for his body.
Turning me over and slipping my nightie over my head.
Lips gently meeting mine and teasing them apart while his hands did the same to my legs.
God, I hope there are some condoms in Shelby’s nightstand.
“Unless you’ve got condoms, you should check the nightstand.” My voice comes out breathy and deep. I should have had him check before he got me off, but the postorgasmic haze makes it hard to care about balance. I’m OK with owing him one.
I just want more.
He nuzzles my neck. “Are you in a hurry?”
My nipples tighten. A strange boldness sizzles through my core and cuts off all sense of aloofness. “Blake, I’ve wanted you since the first time I came home and saw you playing video games with Shawn. I’ve basically had ten years of foreplay.”
“Ten years of foreplay, and I only got you off once?” He shakes his head. “I can do better than that.”
He drags his teeth across my nipple on his way back down.
“Where are you going?”
He kisses down my belly. “Way I see it, if there are condoms in that drawer, I won’t be able to wait to put one on and sink inside you.” He circles my clit with his tongue. “And if there aren’t any condoms in the drawer, I’ll have to leave and find the nearest store so I can get back here as quickly as I can and sink inside you.” He laps his way down and then slowly back up to my clit. “Either way, it’s going to end the same.”
My head spins. “Sounds like a happy ending to me.”
“Maybe.” His fingers deftly probe my slit, getting coated before sliding back inside. I arch my back. “But if I don’t look in the nightstand, I can keep doing this.”
“What are they, Schrödinger’s condoms?”
He groans and sucks at me. “The fact you know about that”—he moves his fingers faster—“is so damned sexy.”
My response is stolen by the white-hot stabs of pleasure that shiver through me. They undulate out in waves that make my hips shake. I clench around his fingers again, violently, suddenly coming. “Please.”
“You’re so wet, Mel, and you taste so good. I almost don’t want to stop.” He sits up, stark want on his face. “Almost.” He reaches for the nightstand, and I swear to God, I cross my fingers, toes, and labia that there are condoms in that drawer.
Please, please, please.
Blake pulls out a gold foil packet, tears it open, and unrolls the condom over his rigid length. He’s so thick.
The fleeting fearful thought about his size evaporates as his thighs touch mine, nudging them open wide, wider. He reaches down and rubs the tip of his cock around, getting nice and wet before pausing at my entrance.
His gaze smolders when it meets mine, and he gently brushes the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone. His lips barely graze mine.
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