Out of the Dark Read Online Free PDF Page B

baked. I unfold my napkin and try to enjoy the scenery while I wait for Stefan to appear.
    Butterflies start fluttering in my stomach, giving me a thrill, when I see him. He looks different from yesterday. He’s in a white V-neck T-shirt and tan pants instead of a suit. He’s barefoot, too, and his black hair is messy instead of combed. The dominating and frightening voice I heard him use earlier doesn’t seem like it could’ve come from this man, yet I know it did.
    His hands are behind his back, and I stand as he approaches and smiles softly.
    “Good morning.” He kisses me on the cheek and reveals three red roses that were concealed behind his back.
    I take them, thanking him as I inhale their perfume, and then I set them to the side of my plate.
    He places his hand on the back of my chair and gestures for me to sit. “I hope you slept well.”
    As I take my seat, I blush, recalling the sounds I heard, or dreamed, in the night. “Yes. The bed is very comfortable.”
    “I’m glad.” He spreads his napkin in his lap, and we eat breakfast together on the veranda.
    He stares at me while I pretend not to notice.
    “Carina, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you stayed. That you’re here. That I met you.” He leans back in his chair. “It must feel strange to be offering me, a stranger, such trust. It’s not lost on me. I’m very lucky.” He looks into the distance, perhaps trying to find the right thing to say. His next words are in a deep whisper. “Something is happening here, and I think you can feel it, too.”
    Again, he leaves me breathless. There’s no sense in denying it. “I do.” I admit it, and I can’t fight the grin that emerges on my lips.
    His face mirrors mine. “What would you like to do today?” He sips his juice.
    “Anything . . . as long as it’s with you.” The honesty that’s so appealing to him is now dispensed with ease, and I see in his bright eyes, he’s enthralled by it.
    “How about I take you through the vineyard?”
    “I’d like that.”
    After breakfast, we walk down a dirt road that could accommodate a small car. On each side are rows and rows of vines. Carved wooden signs delineate the types of grapes planted.
    He sees me admiring them and explains some of the different varieties. “Here is the Sangiovese I was speaking of yesterday.” He retrieves a small hook-shaped tool from his back pocket and reaches up, using it to sever a bunch from the vine. “Some vintners call it una brutta bestia , ‘an ugly beast,’ but I couldn’t disagree more.”
    I watch how he handles the delicate fruit with such reverence.
    He pulls a grape from the bunch, keeping his gaze is glued to mine. “Come here.”
    I walk toward him. My will to do anything else is nonexistent. I stand just a breath away. “Close your eyes,” he says.
    My heart rate increases and beads of sweat begin to drip down my back—possibly from the sun, but most likely from Stefan—as I obey.
    “Open your mouth.” He commands me, and with my eyes closed, his voice sounds so haunting, so suave.
    Again, I do as he says.
    The flesh of the fruit is pressed against my lips, and he runs it around my mouth but doesn’t place it inside. Then, he removes it. “Lick your lips.”
    I do as he says.
    The flavor is sharp and tart, but there’s a lingering sweetness. I say nothing, but with eyes closed, I await further instructions and am not disappointed. This time his voice is even closer, and I feel his hand on my hip.
    “Open again.”
    I part my lips, and the small fruit is placed inside. I let it roll around my tongue before puncturing its flesh, and the sweet, tart flavor overwhelms my taste buds. It’s heaven. As I chew and swallow the fruit, I’m aware of his hand on my body, and though my eyes are closed, I can feel his gaze all over me.
    His grip tightens momentarily, and he slides his hands up my back and into my hair. “Open your eyes.”
    As soon as I do, he tugs my head back and touches