She's a five-alarm fire I've no wish to extinguish. She pushes all my buttons, strikes me in just the right way.
From her pale green gaze as she nervously brushes her wavy locks from her face, to the stammer in her flustered responses-I can't get enough.
I brave fires for a living, yet this connection is so flammable, I'm afraid to touch it.
Afraid to mess it up.
Afraid to get burned.