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“You let your hair down,” Rikard observes, passing his hand through it.
“Oh, I… um, yes, the bun was too tight, my head hurt.”
“You’re pretty like that,” he says, kissing me greedily.
He reeks of whisky. I put my hands on his chest to gently push him away.
“Do you want me to drive?”
“Why?”
“I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
He smiles and places a kiss on my lips, grabbing my ass with one hand.
“I’m in control. And even drunk, I drive better than you. Let’s go.”
