“One night, baby.” He winked. “I just need one night.”
Laughing, Chloe waved her away. “Go. Clean your house. Don’t forget the bedroom. Do you need condoms? They have them at the health clinic.”
“Shut up!”
Chloe fell into a fit of laughter.
“I’m a grown-up,” Everly said. “I know where to get condoms.”
She handed off the flyers so they could return them to the community center then turned to leave, ignoring their snickers.
“We want details later,” Max yelled after her.
She gave them the finger over her shoulder.
* * *
Her apartment was presentable by the time the doorbell rang. Wanting to impress him with neatness seemed like the wrong way to start a relationship, especially since it was a lie. Normally, random clothes and shoes were strewn around each room as if someone had run out halfway dressed in an emergency. But that was just the way she lived. Her last vanilla boyfriend had been a mama’s boy—his expectations of Everly made June Cleaver look like a slob. Needless to say, they hadn’t lasted long.
Now that she had more experience with BDSM, she’d been safewording vanillas anyway.
She swept her gaze over the room one more time before answering the door, making sure she hadn’t left a pair of underwear out—or something even more embarrassing.
When she was satisfied with the condition of the place, she opened the door. Ambrose smiled, and her heart fluttered. In his arms, he held a bundle of blankets.
“Hi.” She stepped aside so he could enter. “You can just throw those on the couch.”
“Okay.”
After unloading the pile from his arms, he pulled off his coat. Her mouth went dry. The gray T-shirt gave her a good look at his arms again. Was there such a thing as arm porn? He’d be a star.
Fuck. Was it hot in here? Tattoos were her weakness.
Forcing herself to move before she drooled on her shirt, she went to the couch to see what he’d brought. Staying busy would keep her mind off wanting to jump him. “This was really nice of you, by the way.” She sifted through the items—each one in perfect condition. They even smelled new. “These are great. You wouldn’t believe the amount of . . .”
One of the cashmere blankets still had the tag on. “Um . . . Did you want to keep this one?”
“Oh.” He actually blushed. “That was a gift. I guess I didn’t take the tags off yet. Keep it. You need it more than I do.”
She didn’t see that coming. He’d been a gentleman at the club—a bossy one but still respectful and kind. But donating all this stuff took it a step further. The fact that he cared about the shelter gave him major brownie points. She pictured him at protests with her, holding signs together, cozying up to stay warm.
She’d tried dating a fellow protester once, but that ended up being the only thing they had in common. When they’d eventually made it into bed, and she’d told him about her kinks, he’d equated it to abuse against women and walked out. But if Ambrose cared about social justice even half as much as she did and he was good in bed, she’d hit the fucking boyfriend jackpot.
She realized she was doing that stupid puppy staring thing again and cleared her throat, trying to stay focused. “Um. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m okay. Can I sit down?”
“Oh! Of course!” Why didn’t she think of that?
He chuckled then they both sat on the couch. Smiling, he said, “It’s really cool what you do. I mean, I know people who donate money, but I’ve never met someone so . . . hands-on.”
She laughed. “That’s what people without money do when they want to help.”
“How often do you do protests and stuff?”
“I’m an active member of Community Cares. It’s a nonprofit organization that advocates for community-based services for those who need them. We also work to change local policy to help close the socioeconomic gap and make opportunities more equal for everybody.”
“Wow.” He pressed his hands together. “That’s amazing.”