Hide Your Heart: A New Zealand Small Town Romance (Sexy New Zealand Beach Romance Far North Book 1)

by Tracey Alvarez

  “I know it’s just for tonight, but it’s Christmas.” Her lips skimmed along his stubbled jaw to his earlobe. “Don’t make me beg.”

  A groan hissed between his teeth as Nate pulled her close, tucking Lauren’s head into his shoulder. “I’ll just hold you tonight, if you want.”

  “You’re sweet. But that’s not what I want.” Not when she really was about to start begging. “I want you.”

  The fingers of one big hand skimmed up her spine and gently gripped her nape. “I want you too, but I’ll be gentle. I won’t hurt you.”

  Lauren pulled back and met his gaze. She didn’t doubt his sincerity for an instant. “I’m not breakable. I don’t want you to be gentle, and I don’t want you holding anything back.”

  Nate traced a fingertip down the raised line of her scar. His lips following the trail taken by his fingers, he whispered against her mouth, “You undo me.”

  In the stillness, her next breath sucked in on a shuddery gasp. He skimmed his hands down her bare arms, settling on the span of her waist. Lauren pulled his shirt up from the waistband of his jeans, sliding bold fingers along the smooth skin of his stomach.

  His mouth found hers, and she relished the moan on his lips. The taste of him was an undiscovered narcotic—euphoric, mind-blowing and deceptive in its addictiveness. His palm cupping the back of her head, Nate explored her mouth with single-minded determination that blotted out everything but this moment.

  Lauren wanted to savor each precious second, to tattoo them on her heart so she’d never forget this one bewitching night. But they slipped through her hands as easily as her fingers combed through Nate’s hair.

  Her fingers popped open a shirt button, and Nate’s abdominal muscles tensed in response. She affected him as much as he affected her.

  Heady knowledge.

  He kissed her again.

  “My zipper. At the back,” she gasped, as they finally came up for air.

  He nibbled the pulse in her neck as his fingers fumbled up her spine. “Can’t I just rip your dress off and buy you another?”

  “Patience.”

  “I’m all out.” His teeth nipped her collarbone while he found the zip and eased it down.

  The dress slipped off her shoulders, and she let him tug the silky fabric over her head, leaving her in a crimson bra and matching lace panties. He said her name again, and the rawness in those two syllables clogged her throat but released a rush of pure feminine confidence at his dazzled expression.

  She unbuttoned his shirt, running her nails down the exposed tanned skin beneath. Nate shrugged off the shirt and tossed it onto the back seat, his breath hitching as she unhooked the metal button on his jeans. She couldn’t resist the opportunity to skim her fingertips along the inside of his waistband, the pads of her fingers brushing the head of his erection. The growl from deep in his chest and the jerk of his hips sent a torrent of arousal straight south.

  His zipper eased open with a slow hiss, the black boxers not disguising what fought for freedom underneath. Pulling on either side of his jeans while he arched up, she slid the denim and black cotton halfway down his thighs.

  “Now.” She wrapped one hand around the satin-sleek length of him. “Do you think you can manage getting out of those clothes, or do you need me to help?”

  He let out a half chuckle, half moan. “You’re a cruel woman with an uncanny memory.”

  She tightened her grip and was rewarded with another husky groan. “So I’ve been told. Let’s see how cruel.”

  His touch, his taste, his body slick against hers was a lesson in surrender. The soft moans spiraling up as her body leaped to another plane of pleasure, the motion and shadowed light, the murmured words of ecstasy, pure torture. Their remaining clothes vanished, then his lips were on her breasts, teasing, tantalizing her with his tongue. His fingers, gentle but work-roughened, slid between her legs, igniting a blaze low in her belly.

  Nate pulled back. “Stay.”

  He eased her off his lap and pointed a finger. “And this time, I mean it.”

  Nate made the trip to and from the workshop bathroom in record time. He slid back into the car, and his hands shook as he tried to tear open the foil packet.

  “Let me.” She plucked the packet from him and opened it.

  “Please,” she breathed moments later as she straddled him again. “I need you.”

  His body nudged against her, and she sank down—taking him deep, taking him fully and crying out at how perfectly he fit. Nate’s hands clamped on her hips, keeping their lower bodies still. With his mouth so close to hers and the feel of him so consuming, she could do nothing but gasp until he took her lips again.

  He flexed inside her, and she clenched around him, arching back and thrusting her hips forward. God, he felt amazing. His tongue danced a slow seduction in her mouth, his fingers sweeping up over her ribs to tease her hardened nipples until she thought she’d come just by his relentless caress.

  Nate moved in her then, guiding her smooth flesh over his, the exquisite friction drawing out another moan. This—this was what she’d waited for, what she’d wanted from the first day she’d seen him bare-chested working on his land.

  Liquid heat flowed through her veins as Nate’s hand slipped between them, stroking her intimately, urging her body to fly. Moments spun out on an endless silken thread, weaving a cocoon around them as they drove each other faster, higher.

  She clung to him, her nails digging in to the hard bulge of his shoulder as tension built stronger, hotter and more intensely, until her climax sent her soaring. Nate pulled her tight against his damp chest, his mouth slick against her neck as he ground out her name, his final pleasure quaking through him.

  Chapter 8

  Lauren woke to shafts of dawn sunlight streaming through her bedroom windows and warm, male skin tangled with hers. She kept her eyes cracked open to narrow slits, tried to analyze the cause of this strange, unsettling sensation—other than being completely naked and sprawled over a man who was also completely naked.

  She wriggled her toes, flexed her back a little, and adjusted her cheek a fraction on the pillow of Nate’s chest. Then it came to her. She was rested. Totally at peace. For once not feeling like a badly reanimated zombie after another night of insomnia. All because of Nate.

  She slid her gaze across the broad expanse of his chest. Fully awake now, she developed an awareness of where her leg rested, which in turned stirred a growing ember to life deep inside her. She’d led him up to her bedroom, and they’d spent hours exploring each other before collapsing in a state of aching satisfaction.

  She couldn’t stop a breathy sigh from escaping as the scent of him, musky and male, tempted her to shift her thigh just a little higher, brush her fingers down from where they lay on his stomach, just a little lower…

  “Hi.”

  Nate’s voice rumbled under her cheek and she jerked upward.

  “You’re awake.” Her thigh travelled up his body and rested on a perky-with-good-morning-enthusiasm part of his anatomy.

  “Have been for a while. I’m enjoying the view.” He grinned, which had the effect of once again striking her dumb.

  “Oh.” Her gaze dropped to focus on the dark stubble ringing his oh-so-kissable mouth.

  “You were sleeping so peacefully; it would’ve been criminal to wake you.”

  She tried to subtly slide her leg off his arousal, but his hand cupped her kneecap, stilling it.

  “Last night was amazing, Lauren—you’re amazing.” He stroked his palm up her thigh and squeezed her bottom. “Your trust and openness means a lot to me.”

  Something cold twisted down her spine, and she repressed a shiver. Early morning light fell onto his tousled hair, and his face was boyish and relaxed. Would she destroy this haven by admitting she only trusted him with her body? With the here and now?

  He must’ve sensed her stiffen, as he slid his other hand up her back and gently gripped her shoulder. “This doesn’t have to be t
he awkward morning after, you know.”

  “This is light-years beyond awkward.” She tugged the sheet around her breasts.

  “Why?”

  “We agreed on one night, remember?”

  He cocked his head and shot her a charming smile. “I don’t recall signing on a dotted line.”

  “It can’t work between us.”

  Even as she said the words, another ripple of ice slicked down her backbone and settled low in her stomach. How could she risk wanting more with a man who would leave forever in a month’s time? “You’re always on the move.”

  And she and Drew needed to stay hidden where it was safe. Where her heart was safe.

  His smile slipped a notch. “True. But I’m not moving anywhere far from you in the next few weeks.” He tugged her mouth down to his, brushing his lips feathery soft across them. “And Lauren? You know we’re not done working this out of our systems.”

  This what? What exactly was this thing they had to eliminate from their systems? Lust? Love?

  She pondered that for the second it took for Nate to roll her onto her back and distract her from further doubts with firm, hot lips.

  ***

  The opportunity to spend more time with Lauren couldn’t have worked better if Nate had planned it.

  For the last week, he’d snuck around like a teenager. Each morning at dawn he’d leave Lauren warm and loved up in her bed, and creep back down to the garage. Not that he was complaining. Much. But seeing her for only a few hours every day wasn’t enough. He’d gotten greedy, especially as he and Todd had resurrected the worst sections of his house.

  He stuffed a handful of paint selector cards in his back pocket then left the garage and climbed the outside stairs. A scrabble of claws on wooden decking and Java’s blocky body appeared, his tail a wagging blur.

  “Hey, mutt.”

  The dog sneezed, shook himself and leaned against Nate’s legs as he stopped to scratch Java’s ears.

  “No more biscuits; I already fed you on the way downstairs earlier.”

  The back door banged open, and Drew bounded out, dressed in a Superman tee shirt and carpenter jeans, toy tools slotted into the pants’ many pockets. “I’m ready, Nate! I’m ready!”

  Nate chuckled and swung the boy onto his shoulders. “Whoa. It’s only half seven, and the hardware store doesn’t open until nine.”

  “You gotta eat breakfast.”

  “I know, I know. Quack, quack, kid.”

  Drew giggled and flopped forward, his tiny hands locking onto Nate’s ears as Nate exaggeratedly ducked under the lintel.

  “Most important meal of the day, right?” Nate asked him.

  With her son wrapped around Nate’s head like an octopus, he walked into the warmth of Lauren’s kitchen.

  “Morning, Nate.” She stood at the counter pouring coffee, her bed-rumpled hair now combed smooth and her eyes sparkling and alert—at least they both got some sleep last night.

  “Morning, Lauren,” he replied and added a wink. Only two hours ago, she’d bitten his shoulder to muffle his name as he’d rocked her to mindless bliss. “Sleep well?”

  She blushed and slitted her eyes. “Like a baby.”

  Nate turned and hooked Drew off his shoulder, flipping him over on the way down in a summersault, which made the boy scream with glee. How many times had Nate’s father done that to Nate as a kid? Countless—and he always demanded more.

  Sure enough, Drew flung up his arms. “Again, again!”

  He complied twice more then set Drew back on his feet. “Coffee and breakfast first, little mate. I’m famished, for some reason.”

  Lauren grinned at him and rolled her pretty hazel eyes. “You’re a bottomless pit.”

  “Guilty.” He sat at her dining table and pulled the paint samples from his jeans. He spread them between the bowls and cereal boxes already set out. “Good job on getting the breakfast stuff ready, Drew. You’ve earned your trip to town today.”

  “Yay!” Drew grinned proudly and turned to his mother. “Can I watch cartoons until Nate’s ready?”

  She nodded, and the boy vanished through the archway into the family room. The theme from SpongeBob SquarePants blared out moments later.

  Nate’s gaze immediately locked back on Lauren as she moved around her kitchen. Barefoot and wearing buttery-soft jeans and a blouse made from filmy stuff transparent enough to see the clingy tank top below, she mesmerized him. Ribbons of morning sunlight streamed through the French doors, dancing over her toes as she moved about. What he wouldn’t do to have his camera right now. He found himself staring sappily at her turquoise-painted toenails and the tiny gold toe ring winking in the light as she walked toward him.

  God, he was losing his mind over this woman.

  “Anything you particularly like?”

  The toes stopped beside his chair, and he jerked his head up to see two steaming mugs of coffee.

  “Oh yeah—put down the cups.” He wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle the sensitive spot just below her belly button.

  “I meant the paint colors, silly.” Laughing, Lauren backed away. She put a coffee next to his samples as she took a seat opposite.

  She softened the tiny rejection by stretching her long legs under the table and running a toe up the inseam of his jeans. Witch.

  He glanced down at the stack of paint samples. The colors all looked the same to him. Blonde, Misty, Bistre, Fog—how could you like or dislike any of them? His stomach did a little hippity-hop in response to the stroke of her feet. Reaching down, he snagged her ankle, running a knuckle of his other hand along the soft arch of her foot. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip and tickled her more.

  “Nate,” she hissed, squirming and giggling. “Quit it.”

  “Help me choose colors, and I’ll stop.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll help.”

  He released her foot with one final tickle, and her smile—warm, open, carefree—sucker-punched him right in the kisser. Because he realized what he’d done. He’d grabbed her ankle, holding it against her will while he tickled, and she hadn’t freaked. No near fainting, no outward sign on her face that his action reminded her of what Jonathan had done. Just laughter and playfulness.

  She trusted him. And he had no idea how to tell her what that meant.

  So he cleared his throat and passed her the samples.

  “Here…I thought white all around—or Antique White, whatever the difference.”

  Lauren snatched the samples out of his hand. “Good grief, you can’t paint Mac’s house boring old white!”

  She shuffled through the cards like a professional gambler preparing for a big game. “What about Tea? Or Thistle and Kapiti with a trim of Rainforest Reef? Or even Thistle and Driftwood. Hmm.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he studied the crease between her brows. “You know, if Drew and I are left to our own devices in the hardware store, we’ll probably come home with ten gallons of bubblegum pink.”

  Her gaze flicked up. “Over my dead body. You’ll turn that place into a blight on the landscape.”

  “I thought you didn’t want me selling it anyway.”

  She cocked her head. “I don’t. But neither do I want old Mac haunting me because you’ve painted his house pink.”

  “Looks like you’re coming to town with us.”

  Lauren returned the samples to the table in a neat pile. “Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky.”

  He opened his eyes wide and innocent-like and shrugged.

  “I don’t trust you one bit, Nate Fraser.”

  “Yeah, you do.” Nate snatched up her hand. He nibble-kissed her fingers and waggled his eyebrows at her until she smiled. “Now pass me the Wheat-biscuits. I’ve worked up quite an appetite this morning.”

  ***

  Lauren left her sunhat at home—and for her, it was tantamount to arriving at Bounty Bay Hardware in a bikini. Summer crowds still milled through the town’s main street, but the hardware store’s m
ostly empty parking lot settled her pulse down from a gallop to a trot. Holidaymakers were more interested in cafes, surf-shops and bars than the locally owned and operated store.

  She clasped Drew’s hand and tried not to squeeze too hard as they strolled along the aisles, the salesclerk mixing the agreed paint choices of Thistle, Driftwood, and Fossil out in the back under Nate’s supervision. Butterfly light flutters tickled her stomach, more from the memory of that morning’s lovemaking than the familiar nerves at being out in public. Tension seeped out of her muscles; only a few other shoppers browsed along the same aisle, and none of them appeared the slightest bit interested in her or her son.

  “Look, a tool belt like Nate’s.” Drew tugged his hand out of hers and ran to a display of scaled-down, kid-sized tool belts.

  “Wow. They’re cool.”

  She crouched next to him, and they examined the little belt on display, complete with a small metal hammer, measuring tape and crescent wrench.

  Wheels squeaked on the linoleum, and Lizzie Callahan, mother of two of Drew’s preschool friends, turned into the aisle. Her twin sons, Lucas and Logan, let go of the shopping cart and rushed to Drew’s side.

  “Hi-Drew-what-did-Santa-bring-ya-for-Christmas?” said Lucas.

  Lizzie’s gaze zipped from the boys to Lauren, then slightly off over her shoulder. “Oh, hello…Lauren.”

  Damn. The slight hesitation between the greeting and her name was enough to set her heart pounding again.

  On the parent/teacher committee, Lizzie had hinted for months for Lauren to take a more active involvement in the local preschool. Maybe she should’ve agreed to man a stall at the planned summer fundraising carnival, instead of only offering to bake six-dozen muffins.

  Lizzie circled the shopping cart, as Lauren stood upright. The shorter woman reached out to gently guide Lauren a few steps away from the chattering boys.

  “There’s a bit of a buzz going around the social networks—Grace, my niece, showed me on one of her websites a few days ago…” Lizzie glanced over her shoulder as if to check the boys weren’t listening.