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cool lips to mine, just the knowledge that her tight, hot body was within centimeters of my granite-hard cock—well, it’s enough to keep a man up at night.
    With a growl, I throw back the covers and stomp through the living room and into the kitchen.  I have to laugh when I find Trick sitting at the island, in the dark, nursing a beer.
    “What the hell, man?” he says when I turn on the light.
    “If we ain’t sleeping, we’re drinking.  Now go get your stash of beer from downstairs. We’re gonna need a lot more than what’s in the fridge.  We’ve got some hot blood to cool.”
    “This is gonna be a long week, isn’t it?”
    “Hell yeah, it is!”
    We both sigh and Trick gets up to go downstairs.  I walk to the fridge and take out the rest of the cold beer in there to make room for more.  I figure we’ll have these downed in less than an hour.
    I shake my head as I think again of Jenna. I don’t know what that girl’s trying to do to me, but if it includes death from over-excitement, she’s well on her way.
     

CHAPTER FIVE- Jenna
     
    It’s after lunch and Rusty is on my mind even more than usual, which is always a lot.  This whole look-but-don’t-touch (or at least don’t touch anything too much) is eating me up.  But in a really good way.  For whatever reason, I almost feel closer to Rusty, like we’re sharing a private joke. I guess we are, actually.  A private joke that’s like the ultimate foreplay.  And neither of us knows how much we can take before we give in.
    But wading through every sweetly torturous moment is half the fun.
    “So they are meeting us there, right?” I ask Cami, who’s sitting in the passenger seat of my car, fiddling with her phone. 
    “Yes.  For the millionth time yes!  They’re supposed to be there by 1:30.”
    “Okay,” I say with a smile.   Cami’s turns her attention right back to her phone and types something out furiously.  “Just what the hell are you doing?”
    Cami’s head jerks up and she glances guiltily at me, shielding her cell phone against her chest.  “Nothing.  Why?”
    I gasp.  “You’re sexting!”
    “Am not.”
    “Are, too!  You are a dirty little sexter!  Don’t even bother to hide it. Your cheeks are blood red and your pupils are huge!”
    Cami grins.  “Are they really?”
    “Ohmigod, you two are horrible!”
    “You say that like you don’t do it.”
    “I haven’t texted Rusty one naughty thing since you told me what we were doing with this no sex thing.”
    “Really?  I’m impressed.”
    “You should be, you cock-blocking gutter snipe!”
    “Cock-blocking gutter snipe?” she laughs.
    I giggle.  “I don’t know where in blue blazes that came from.  See what a lack of sex does to me?”
    “I figured you’d have caved already.  You’re not the celibate type.”
    “Neither are you.  At least not where Trick’s concerned.”
    She smiles wider.  “He does make it awfully hard to do without.”
    My sigh is wistful, as thoughts of Rusty’s talented…parts come to mind.  “Gotta love a man with magic in his pants.”
    At 1:22, Cami and I are pulling into the parking lot outside the Crazy Clown Costume Shoppe in Summerton.  It’s the nearest more-than-one-horse city to our hometown of Greenfield, South Carolina.  We get out and walk to the door, both of us stopping to stare at the cardboard cut-out standing on the sidewalk like a proud, bipolar sentry at the shop entrance. 
    The guy is wearing a fuzzy red wig, a squishy red nose and his face is painted white with a big, black smile around his mouth. From neck up, he’s a clown.  But from waist down, it’s a different story.  He’s wearing a Chippendale bow tie, forearm cuffs like Conan the Barbarian, underwear with an elephant trunk at just the right place and chaps to finish him off.  He’s sort of a costume clusterfu—. 
    “Please God, tell me you didn’t pick any of this for Trick,” Cami pleads as we approach the door,