“Grease monkey.”
I cup her face.
“You look like every fantasy I’ve ever had learned how to walk.”

“You’re chaos in steel-toed boots, Rebecca Morgan.
And somehow,
I still let you into my house.”

“The world sees a king.
You see the man beneath the crown.
That’s dangerous for both of us.”

“You’re not my type.”
“And what’s your type?”
“Women who don’t make me forget how to breathe.”