Page 32 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
Unsure if she was reading him right, Harriet hesitated for one brief moment, then, with her hands braced, lowered herself onto his lap, straddling his muscled thighs.
Instantly, Daniel’s hands came up and grasped her waist, and his eyes were dark and burning, “I refuse to think you did that on instinct.”
“I didn’t,” Harriet replied, as her heart began to thunder under her breastbone. “There was a chapter in Anon Ashworth’s latest book—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish; with a groan, he slid his hands in her hair, angling her head to meet his kiss. Harriet’s lips parted naturally beneath his, and he tasted the sweet wine she had been drinking. Cradling her delicate jaw, plunged his tongue deeper, leaving no part of her mouth unexplored. She was his, all of her, and he would allow her to hold nothing back.
Harriet was no wilting flower; boldly, she touched her tongue to his, and slid her hand into his hair, gripping him there and holding him tight. The pleasure-pain turned every sinew in his body taut, and a low rugged moan came from him.
Just as she began to ache for more, for him to touch her, kiss her neck, cup her breasts—anything—Daniel jerked himself away, yanking his hands from her body a second later. Harriet’s confused look barely made a mark on him before he deposited her on the couch, stood, and walked away to the window.
Befuddled, Harriet stood and went to him, daring to touch his arm as his back was turned to her.
“Daniel?” she asked cautiously. “Have I done something wrong? Was I too bold again? I can—”
“No,” he said quickly, almost a bark. His shoulder was stiff, but then his tone mellowed, “No, Harriet, you did nothing wrong…I transgressed. I should not have kissed you like that. I lost control, and I apologize.”
When he turned, the lost look in his eyes had her wanting to comfort him. “Why? Wasn’t that a lesson? Wasn’t the logical end to me flirting with you that way, a kiss?”
His brow knitted tightly, and Daniel made to say something, but then, he only nodded. “Right. About that, I wanted to have dinner with you to show you how you can use your body to your advantage, even then.”
“With food?”
“Combined with what you already know, yes,” Daniel replied. “There are subtle movements, Harriet. When you grasp your wine glass, stroke the stem, so slowly, even absentmindedly. Sip your wine and over the rim, meet the eyes of who you want to seduce, and lick your lips. Biting into food with sauce, let a little dribble down your lips, take your finger, swipe away, and lick it off.”
“Why should I stroke the stem?” Harriet asked.
“It’s phallic imagery, men assimilate it with how you’ll please us, and as Anon Ashworth’s books have thoroughly corrupted your mind, I suspect you know what I am speaking off,” Daniel said. “You do, don’t you?”
“I do,” Harriet nodded, then added, “in theory, anyway.”
Nodding, Daniel called up a servant, and requested dinner for two, specifically ordering roasted beef with sauce, sweet sherry, and servings of flummery for dessert.
“Men react to actions more than words,” Daniel said. “Especially when they set their eyes set on a woman, their focus is sharp. They look for the littlest clues, and a smart woman gives them enough to keep their attention.”
“You have to be coordinated; your eyes, motions, and words must say the same thing,” Daniel added. “Mixed messages will not further your cause.”
“Which means, submission and seduction go hand in hand,” Harriet deduced.
“Exactly,” he said.
Daniel pulled out a seat near the head for her before he sat. “When you eat, cut your meat into strips. Bite down, daintily, and don’t stop yourself from licking your lips, but not every time, mind you.”
Shaking her head with a quiet laugh, Harriet unfolded her napkin, “Even I know that would look strange.”
With her cut of beef on her plate, Harriet sliced the meat into thin strips, pouring a dab of gravy over it. Then, with the fork, nudged the blunt tip to her lips, and bit down with dainty precision. Harriet looked to Daniel, who, instead of eating, was sipping his wine.
She lowered her lids, while a few drops of juice dribbled from the corner of her lips. The tip of her tongue slid out and caught the dribble; his eyes narrowed. When Harriet turned away just so, and licked her lips in a sensuous arc, he rested the wine glass on the table.
“Now,” Daniel said, and his voice was tight and rough, as he reached over and filled her wine glass. “Take your glass and before you drink, caress the stem.”
Obediently, Harriet took the glass and angled it so she could slide her thumb up and down the stem. Under her lashes, Harriet watched Daniel as, still, he had not touched his food. Instead, he sipped his wine, almost casually, but she saw the rigid line of his shoulders and how he seemed to have to force his drink down.
* * *
What in God’s name had I been thinking? After I was already aroused, I had to go and make it worse on myself.
Watching the meat slide into her mouth with excruciating slowness had the simmering burn of arousal reignite itself into a flame. Dark lust gripped him, as her small tongue came out, sucking one long digit dotted with gravy, between her pink lips.
