Chapter Eighteen Trace's eyes lit with a ferocious hunger. "Don't move." He disappeared into the hall, and she heard him bounding down the stairs at least two at a time. Cecilia smothered a giggle. Like she could move. Trace had wound her up into a bundle of nerves ready to go supernova at the slightest brush against her clit. Honestly, with a few more lashes of his tongue or the slide of his c**k against her clit, she'd have passed right out from the ecstasy of it. Seconds later, his feet hit the stairs again and he appeared in the door holding her purse. "You're not winded?" He lifted an eyebrow as he stalked toward her. "Stamina, babe." "Cocky much?" "Confident. There's a difference." He held out her purse. "I think you know what to look for." Any other man would have opened her