Every Little Kiss Quotes

“Stop talking. Now.”

Deanna’s head fell back and she started laughing. It was a full-bodied belly laugh that spread over him like a breeze on a hot day. The sound was so sweet that it almost made up for how big of a disgusting pervert he felt like right now.

While she was still chuckling, she touched his arm. “Don’t feel bad. How old were you then?”

“It was senior year, so seventeen,” Lucky answered, still feeling gross.

“See? You were a teenager, too. It’s fine. Really.” She continued giggling, and he had to admit that the sound made him so happy that he didn’t even care that it was at his expense.

“It still feels wrong.” His shoulders shook as a chill ran through him, and it wasn’t the good kind. It was the grossed-out kind.

“I think it’s hilarious,” she said, clearly enjoying seeing him squirm.

“I’m so glad I can amuse you,” he said flatly.

“Well, I think it’s only fair since I seemed to have offered hours of amusement for you—”
Without even thinking, he reached over the seat and started tickling her. She wiggled and laughed, begging him to stop. He did, but only because a call came in.

When he saw the picture on his console’s display, he knew he had to answer it. Pressing the answer button, he extended his patent greeting to his publicist.

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Why can’t you just play nice with others, especially the press?” Jessie Sloan-Courtland asked in her usual no nonsense tone. Jessie wasn’t one for niceties. She was all business, all the time.

Deciding to ignore her rhetorical question and her dislike for small talk, he pushed on undeterred. “I’ve been good. How about you?”

“Lucky. You can’t treat the press like that.” Jessie seemed to have the same game plan as he did.

This conversation was going to happen, so he figured he might as well just get it over with. “I wasn’t there for them. I was there for the kids.”

“It doesn’t matter. They were there, and whether you like it or not, you have a responsibility—”

“I had a responsibility to visit the kids and their families. I had a responsibility to protect the people I brought with me. And I lived up to my responsibilities.”

“I’m not going to argue with you. You’re supposed to be cleaning up your act. We agreed. And your image is your responsibility. When you elbow photographers in the nose, you open yourself up for lawsuits, and that is not something sponsors think is appealing. You know what’s on the line with this bout. Don’t screw it up.”

“Yes, Mom,” he answered—his normal response for when Jessie was right.

“You know, you’re not nearly as cute as you think you are,” she said, sounding less than impressed.

“Awww, you think I’m cute. Does Zach know? I don’t want to come betw—”

“Goodbye, Lucky.”

“Bye, beautiful.”

When the call disconnected, Lucky felt a little twinge of guilt that Jessie had even had to make that call. He knew better.

“Wow. She’s awesome.” Unlike Jessie, Deanna did sound impressed.

“Yeah. She is pretty awesome,” he agreed.

“And so beautiful.” Deanna was still looking at Jessie’s picture on the console.

He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea just because he’d called her beautiful. “Her husband sure thinks so. He’s actually a friend of mine. Have you heard of Zach Courtland?”

Deanna was quiet for a beat. Then she snapped her fingers. “Was he the one in the Calvin Klein ads?”

“That’s him.”

“Wow. She’s married to him? He’s…hot.”

Well, this conversation had taken a turn Lucky didn’t like. Not one little bit.”
― Melanie Shawn, Lucky Kiss

“Deanna lifted her hand to the back of her neck, stretching it from side to side. Now that he thought about it, she’d been doing that a lot today.

“Do you have a headache?” he asked.

She sighed. “Yeah. I haven’t been sleeping that well, and when we were doing drills yesterday, I tweaked my neck carrying equipment the wrong way.”

Lucky saw a way to get this conversation back on track, so he steered them towards it. “I can help you with that.”

“That’s okay,” she dismissed him. “I don’t want a massage, but thanks.”

“I wasn’t offering a massage, but you’re welcome.”

“But you said you could help me…”

“Yeah, I did. And I can. But I didn’t say anything about a massage,” he corrected her.

“Oh, no, I don’t want to take anything. I try not to take medicine unless I absolute—”

“Ehhh,” he interrupted her, making the sound of a buzzer. “Wrong again. Do you want to try door number three, or should I just tell you what I was offering?”

She chuckled, and his heart swelled with pride. The fact that he had made her laugh so easily made him feel like Leo on the Titanic—like he was the king of the world.

“Fine. Tell me,” she replied, her tone in full sass mode.

“Well, since you asked soooo nicely,” he overemphasized. “I was going to say that I could get rid of your headache if you wanted me to.”

Sounding more than a little skeptical, she asked, “How?”

“By going down on you,” he stated plainly and confidently.

“What!?” she shrieked. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about me between your legs for a good thirty minutes or so. You’ll feel the scratch of my stubble on the side of your thighs, and all you’ll see is the top of my head. I’m talking about touching and kissing and licking you—”

“Okay,” she cut in. “I get the point.”

“Well.” He shrugged. “You asked what I was talking about, so I figured I should be clear.”

Laughter filled her voice as she asked, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say those….things… and make them sound so casual? Normal? Not dirty?”

“It’s part of my charm, really. I can make the most innocent things sound dirty and the dirtiest things sound completely innocent,” he explained.

“I believe you.” She was shaking her head and looking out the window, but with the moonlight streaming in, he could see that her face was flushed with what he was going to believe was arousal.

“Just think about it. The offer’s on the table.” With that he turned up the music, which happened to be R&B. He figured a little Marvin Gaye couldn’t do anything but help his cause.”
― Melanie Shawn, Lucky Kiss

“He continued his one-man show. “Wait, you’re not talking about the smokin’-hot brunette who shut you down when you asked her to go as your date tonight.”

Her attempts to conceal her smile were futile. The corners of her lips turned up into a wide grin as she shook her head.

“Yep. That’s the one,” Lucky confirmed…to himself. “And while it’s true that she did pass on going as my date, I would like the record to show that she sat right next to me at dinner and was flirting shamelessly—”

A gasp flew from her mouth. “I was not!”

“I’m sorry, but no one was talking to you.” He looked over at her as if she had truly interrupted a private conversation.

Despite herself, she burst out laughing.

“Rude,” he said under his breath as he once again stared out the windshield, pretending to be offended. “As I was saying, after flirting subtly but shamelessly with me during dinner, we shared one of the most…I don’t even have the words…intimate slow dances in the history of all time. Then, said smokin’-hot brunette asked me for a ride home. Sooo, was it a date? I think so.”

Deanna was still chuckling as they drove onto the main road, all the tension she’d been feeling gone. She was relaxed now and surprisingly having fun.

After composing herself, she crossed her arms. “Are you finished?”

Lucky turned his head slightly towards her, acting surprised. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to join the conversation?”
“Only to set the record straight that, one, I did not flirt with you at dinner. Shamelessly or subtly. And, two, I did not ask for a ride home. That was all you.”

“Duly noted. Is that it?” he asked casually, but she had a bad feeling the question was leading somewhere.

She narrowed her eyes, knowing she was playing right into his hand. “Yes.”

He grinned—one of victory. “So you admit that was one of the most intimate slow dances in the history of all time.”

“I didn’t say that.” Heat once again rushed to her cheeks, and she was glad the only light in the SUV was from the moon.

“You didn’t submit any evidence disproving it, so by default, ya kinda did say that.” He sounded more than a little pleased with himself.

“Whatever.” She was still grinning like an idiot as she looked back out the window. It was the lamest of all possible comebacks, but she hadn’t known what else to say. If her brain wasn’t consumed with the fact that they were alone in a small, enclosed area and she’d had six glasses of wine, she would’ve been able to come up with a wittier retort.”
― Melanie Shawn, Lucky Kiss