Locking Lips With Cassie Mae... No, Not Literally!

Yay, Cassie's here! As you've probably noticed, Cassie Mae has been showering the blogosphere with awesomeness during her blog tour for Friday Night Alibi, and I'm so excited she's here today, talking about one of her favourite things.... kissing scenes! Friday Night Alibi has plenty, and they are all yummy! Mmm, Chase....

 

First BIG THANK YOU to Kyra for letting me invade. Whew! It’s been a long blog tour, but I’ve had a ton of fun!

I’m going to leave you with a post about kissing scenes, because I’m surprised I haven’t had one yet during this tour, lol!

Romance (to me) is all about that first kiss. Bam! Here we go, they’re totally into each other, butterflies and fireworks shooting off, big smile on my face and after they’re done, I read it again. So, yeah, I’m obsessed, but hey, I know I’m not the only one ;)

There are certain kissing scenes I read over and over (Colleen Hoover’s HOPELESS comes to mind) and some that leave me fist pumping the air because it took them long enough! (Anyone who’s read LM Augustine’s CLICK TO SUBSCRIBE can relate) But enough yabbering. I’m here to share my favorite kissing scene from FRIDAY NIGHT ALIBI. (And yeah, there are a lot to choose from. It’s totally a kissing book ;))

And it’s long. I don’t think I’ve written a kissing scene shorter than like, a million pages ;)

Enjoy! And don’t forget to check out my book (cuz I’m supposed to say that, you know;))

I rest my shaking hands on his waist, causing him to jump and elbow me in the arm. I laugh and tiptoe my fingers around his stomach and rest my head on his back. He smells so yummy. It’s orangey, but not like his body spray. A lighter scent to it, like he washes his clothes in orange smoothie.

He puts his arms down, putting the bow and violin in the same hand while rubbing my fingers with the other.

“You’re really good,” I say against him.

His chuckle vibrates through my cheek, and he twists so we’re facing each other. “A compliment. I think I fell asleep during that performance and woke up in an alternate universe.”

I don’t even care that he’s calling me out. I want to kiss him now and not stop. Dang him for being so sexy.

Snaking my hand around, I grab the bottom of his tie before gripping and yanking it down to bring his lips to mine. Only problem—besides me never being smooth about anything—he’s wearing a clip-on, so it snaps open and smacks me right in the nose.

“Agh!” I say through a giggle, rubbing my face. He’s laughing, tucking me into his chest and running his hand through my short hair.

“Two seconds,” he says, reaching around me to set his violin back in its case, but keeps me in his embrace. Again, popcorn shooting everywhere, even though I’m a complete dork.

His fingers tickle my neck before he leans in to press his lips to mine. We’re normally so . . . hmm . . . what’s the word? Frisky? Animalistic? I dunno, but we usually attack each other. It’s not messy or sloppy—most of the time—but it is hungry and anxious, like we’re making up for not kissing for a week. But this kiss is a one-eighty, in a completely amazing way.

I don’t know if it’s because he’s tired, or maybe it was because of his beautiful solo, but it’s slow, soft, teasing, and sweet. Always sweet with his orange breath, but this is . . . ah-maz-ingly sweet. Like he wants nothing more than to protect me, take care of me, hold me. It’s scary all at the same time, because I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be. But I don’t care. I shove them all aside and tease his lips with my tongue and move into him to taste every corner of his mouth.

The back of my legs press against my mattress and I pull him down with me as I sit. He breaks away, breathing hard in my face and keeping his eyes closed.

“No bed,” he says against my lips before pecking me once . . . twice . . . and a third time. “We’ve sworn it off, remember?”

He’s whispering in this deep and guttural voice. I mentally say, “screw the no-bed rule!” and show him by sneaking my hand in between two buttons, grabbing the fabric and pulling him on top of me as I fall back on the bed. He shakes his head and grunts in protest, but I don’t let him move. I trust him, crazy as that is. He won’t touch anywhere unless I let him.

I slide backwards as he crawls over me, keeping our lips within reach of each other even when they part to catch air. He’s still tired, I can tell by the shadows under his eyes and the way he’s kissing me.

“Chase?” I ask in between his gentle brushes against my skin. “Are you wearing an undershirt?”

He stops to look at me, his green eyes dark and heavy. “Yes, why?”

I finger the button by his collar, shoving it through its hole. Then keep moving down, uncovering the black undershirt he has on. When I get lower, I tug the dress shirt from his pants and finish unbuttoning him.

We both let out a big rush of air that waves my hair from my face and makes him chuckle. I guess we were both holding our breath through that.

My hands dive in between his shirts and pull the fabric across his back to force him to my lips again. When he settles most of his weight on me, I think I may burst. I’m beyond the point of popcorn. I’m running a freaking carnival in my body, Ferris wheel and all.

Just when I think I can’t stand any more, he tucks a leg between mine and that’s what turns soft and sweet into hungry and anxious. At least on my part. I’m smothering him with my mouth, clenching my legs around his, kissing his scruff and his lips so hard I’m sure they’re going to look like I’ve injected them with Botox by the time I’m done with him. And my fingers keep curling around the fabric on his undershirt, tugging and scratching, ready to rip the material right off.

He feels so good. I think I’m in love with that leg of his right now. Whoa, not love . . . but it’s doing things I never thought I would feel, and it’s just pressing against me. I know I’m sweating, that my breath is coming out in short gasps and I’m pretty sure I say his name once or twice. And unlike our first major make out—or any since—I can’t find it in me to stop. To tell him wait or shove him off. His hands remain in safe territory, but that doesn’t mean they’re not making me all flushy.

His kisses match my intensity, and that darn leg presses into me again. This really humiliating moan releases from my throat, and he pulls back, my lips trying to follow him.

His eyes are dark gray now, and he’s looking down at me and gripping the pillow by my head. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat. It’s way too sexy to just lie here, so I swing my arms around his neck and force him back to my mouth.

“Kel . . .” he breathes between my attacks, “wait a second.”

I don’t listen at first, still trying to compute. But he says it again, moving from my death grip as much as he can.

“Why?” I nearly whine.

He chuckles against my face, cooling my very hot skin. “Because it’s late, and I should go before we forget why we swore off the bed.”

I loosen my fingers and relax into my pillows. He’s right, but I won’t say that out loud. We’re make-out partners, nothing else. And if we keep going, I don’t want to get into this thing deeper than I already am.

But I wonder if he’ll let me keep his leg.

****

Purchase Link: http://www.randomhouse.com/book/231683/friday-night-alibi-by-cassie-mae

Bio:

Cassie Mae is a nerd to the core from Utah, who likes to write about other nerds who find love. She’s the author of the Amazon Bestseller REASONS I FELL FOR THE FUNNY FAT FRIEND, and is the debut author for the Random House FLIRT line with her New Adult novels FRIDAY NIGHT ALIBI and SWITCHED. She also has a three book deal with Swoon Romance Publishing, including her book HOW TO DATE A NERD. She spends time with her angel children and perfect husband who fan her and feed her grapes while she clacks away on the keyboard. Then she wakes up from that dream world and manages to get a few words on the computer while the house explodes around her. When she’s not writing, she’s spending time with the youth in her community as a volleyball and basketball coach, or searching the house desperately for chocolate.

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