Free The Girl With the Iron Touch by Kady Cross

to trace her fingers over the veins beneath his flesh just to see where she’d end up.
    She hesitated—only a moment—before moving on to his trousers. What was that saying? He who hesitates is lost? She undid the buttons. His fingers closed around hers.
    “Finley.”
    She met his gaze and held it.
    He didn’t tell her to stop. She’d started this, and if she didn’t finish it, he wouldn’t.
    She pulled his trousers down—all the way to his feet. He wasn’t wearing socks, so once he stepped out of the trousers that was it. He was naked.
    Finley quickly stood up, before curiosity got the best of her. Griffin watched her, a strange expression on his face. An expression that made her tingle all over.
    “Into the tub,” she instructed.
    He did as he was told. She could see his vertebrae as he lowered himself into the water. He wasn’t quite skin and bones, but he’d get there soon enough.
    He sighed.
    Finley rolled up her sleeves and turned off the water when the tub was almost full. Then, she grabbed his soap and a washcloth and set to work. She washed his chest and his underarms, then his back. There was something terribly intimate about this moment that went beyond the fact that she wanted to crawl into the tub with him and see what happened next. She felt closer to him than she had in weeks.
    There was a knock on the bedroom door, and she went to answer it. It was Mrs. Dodsworth with the food. The housekeeper took one look at her and asked, “Do you require assistance, Miss Finley?”
    “No, thank you, Mrs. D. I’ve everything under control.”
    The older woman smiled. “You’re a good girl, my dear. Just what His Grace needs—someone to take him in hand.”
    Finley didn’t think that meant quite what came to mind.
    When the housekeeper left, Finley returned to the bath, where Griffin reclined in the tub. A fine layer of suds floated on top of the water, keeping her from peeking and turning this moment into something she hadn’t intended. There’d be time for that later. Right now, she needed to wash his hair.
    She poured bathwater over his head, then lathered his hair with the same soap she had used to wash the rest of him. She used fresh water from the hose to rinse it away.
    There was one thing left to do. She lathered a brush with shaving soap and applied it all over the stubble on his face. He eyed her cagily, looking more alert. “Have you done this before?” he asked, wiping soap from his lips and making a face when some got in his mouth.
    “Of course.” Once. She’d shaved her stepfather when he had an injured hand. He never let her do it again. She placed the edge of the blade against his neck and stroked upward. Perfect. He moved his head to give her better access, and made faces that made it easier for her to shave his face. When she was done, she rinsed the soap away and handed him a towel.
    She left the room as he began to stand. “I’ll get you a fresh dressing gown.” She wasn’t certain but she thought he might have chuckled.
    Finley found a dark wine velvet dressing gown in his armoire and snatched it from the hanger. When she turned to take it to the bath, she jumped.
    Griffin stood before her, warm and damp, with a towel wrapped around his lean waist.
    She looked down. Even his feet were perfect. Then, she let her gaze drift lazily upward, lingering on his stomach and chest. A girl could only resist so long before curiosity won.
    “Thank you,” he said. His voice sounded rough. She liked it.
    “You’re welcome. You should eat.”
    “I will.” He took a step toward her.
    Her heart began to pound. Her mouth went dry.
    Another step. He was so close she could feel the warmth of his skin. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck as he closed the distance between them.
    When his lips touched hers Finley dropped the dressing gown. He kissed her like he thought he might never get another chance, setting her heart pounding at a terrible pace. His other