As soon as they exit the car, he grabs me around the waist, pulls me onto his lap, and puts his nose in my hair. I try to turn my head, but he just tightens his grip around my middle, pressing me to his body. “Four hours, Milene,” he whispers into my ear. “I called you every hour.” “I know.” He presses his face to my neck and inhales. “Do you think I’m crazy?” “A little?” I snort, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his. “Is that a problem?” “Not really.”