Never Let Go by Deborah Smith Page B

angry with her. Trying to preserve the tenderness between them, she forced her hand away from his hardness. As her fingers skimmed over him she felt the angular imprint of the truck keys in his front pocket.
    Dinah froze, her fingers resting on the forbidden item. She explored a little, and her breath stalled in her throat when she realized that the edge of the key ring protruded from his pocket. It would be so easy to steal the keys.
    He wouldn't notice. When he woke up there'd be a good chance that he'd step outside of the truck for a minute. At which time, if she really loved him, she'd grit her teeth, crank the engine, and drive away without looking back. They were in the middle of nowhere, but they'd passed a small town a mile or two before stopping to sleep. He could walk there easily.
    He'd never forgive her, but at least he'd be out of this dangerous predicament.
    Sadness hollowed her inside as she caught the tip of her fingernail in the key ring and eased it out of his pocket. Dinah watched his face carefully for signs that he was waking. She slowly put the keys on. the floorboard under the seat.
    Now she looked at Rucker with the painful knowledge that she was going to leave him again, and soon. She'd do whatever it took to come back and bring their daughter with her, but he wouldn't know that.
    Once more she touched him, and this time she unfastened his jeans, her fingers moving with great care. If she could give him this unselfish pleasure, perhaps he wouldn't be able to hate her.
    His breathing quickened as she uncovered him, tugging his shirt tall up to reveal the tight, muscular abdomen she remembered so well. Dinah nestled her face In the crook of his neck and inhaled his masculine scent, trying to commit everything about him to memory. She eased her hand inside his jeans and stroked gently.
    The feel of his smooth, rigid length against her fingers was so erotic that she moaned from bittersweet desire. They were right for each other in so many ways, not just this one, but it was all she could share with him on this cold March morning, their anniversary.
    Suddenly his back arched. He strained against her wantonly caressing hand, hot and pulsing. Dinah anxiously drew her head up and looked at his face, dreading the moment when he would open his eyes and see her through a haze of anger.
    His dark auburn lashes flickered. Dinah moaned softly and kissed him, dabbing her tongue to the center of his mouth seductively. A shudder ran through him and he twisted his mouth away from her.
    Dinah wretchedly watched his eyes open. He looked up at her, blinking slowly, obviously stunned by what she was doing to him and his body's virile reaction. He stared at her tormented expression. A frown began to crease his forehead.
    "No. No," she begged in a hoarse whisper, Dinah took his mouth before he could answer.
    He gripped her shoulders as if to shove her away, but he groaned under the tantalizing assault of her mouth and hand. Dinah realized that his pleasure was so advanced that he couldn't ignore it.
    She used the advantage, slipping her tongue into his mouth, making soft yearning sounds that drew a responding quiver through him. He shifted roughly in the small confines of the truck's cab, his body struggling under her touch. His hands rose to her long hair, twisting it, then grasping her head and holding it as he kissed her back.
    The knowledge that she gave him so much pleasure made her bones dissolve. She was collapsing inside, falling apart in sweet sync with him. His head tilted back and his body pressed upward into her hand.
    "Dee," he murmured hoarsely, as a wracking shudder signaled his release.
    She cried then, hearing the old nickname for the first time. Dinah slid one arm under his neck and clung to him, her face burrowed in his shoulder while her hand feathered over his wet stomach.
    His chest rose and fell harshly; his hands knotted in her hair then grasped her shoulders. He cursed in a soft, broken voice, then