When Brendan was finally done, Deirdre waited for him to fall asleep before climbing out of their bed with her hand on her waist. He had deprived her of birth control pills, so the only thing she had left to prevent a pregnancy was the primitive way of washing it away.

Brendan suddenly opened his cold, black eyes. They zeroed in on her retreating back as a frigid question escaped his lips. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Deirdre bit her lip. “To wash.”

Brendan smirked. “Really? To wash? Or get birth control pills from the pharmacy?”

Deirdre had planned to do that the next day, which was why she froze on the carpet when she was called out on it. Before she could respond, Brendan had yanked her by the arm and pinned her against the bed once more.

His eyes were as all-consuming as the abyss, and his lopsided smirk twisted his features completely. “Don’t bother. You’re infertile anyway.”

Deirdre was stunned. The assurance in his tone suckerpunched her into a daze. “What’s that