Page 22

After sharing a long kiss, Bishop put up the sun umbrella, while Kensley organized their chairs and towels.

Before Kensley could walk to the water, Bishop pulled a bottle of sunscreen out of a cooler pocket and wiggled his eyebrows.

They were both hard, erections straining against their shorts, by the time they’d slathered the other person with the coconut-scented lotion.

But as much as Kensley loved being fucked by Bishop, he was starting to feel it, even with his natural slick.

Curious how long Bishop could resist him, Kensley took off for the shore and splashed into the cool water up to mid-calf.

Sand tickled the soles of his bare feet, which were magnified by the clear water.

He had no idea how deep the water got, but he had no fear of it.

Not with Bishop walking up behind him, a wide grin on his handsome face.

His burn scars stood out more in the bright sunshine, but he didn’t seem aware of them.

Their pasts had no place here.

“Trust me?” Bishop asked.

“Of course.” There was no question of trust after everything Bishop had done for him since Saturday.

Bishop scooped Kensley up in his arms and cradled him close, water from his feet splashing them both.

Kensley looped his arms around Bishop’s neck, completely unafraid—even when Bishop began walking farther into the lagoon.

The water slowly rose, until the tips of Kensley’s toes skimmed its surface.

Bishop stopped with the water at his waist and wetting the seat of Kensley’s shorts.

“About six feet farther out,” Bishop said, “the bottom drops and it gets deep. I’ve snorkeled out here before.”

“What’s out there?”

“Some coral. Porcupine and parrot fish, moray eels, sometimes starfish and seahorses. Conchs. I can teach you, if you want.”

“I’d love that. Maybe tomorrow. I need to practice swimming again.”

“Safety first.” Bishop kissed his cheek. “As much as my inner teenager would love to just toss you into the water, I’m going to put you down on your feet, okay? You can touch fine, and the current is weak.”

“Okay.” His belly wobbled on the way down, but he loved the way the water sucked him into its chilly embrace.

Much colder than by shore. He held tight to Bishop’s hand and laughed at the way his shorts billowed in the water.

On a peal of laughter, he dunked low until the water came over his shoulders, then stood straight back up. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Bishop went all the way under before rocketing back up on a big splash that wet Kensley’s face, and they both started laughing. “Ready to swim?”

“Definitely.”

And they did. Kensley lost track of time as they swam around the shallow water, ducking under, becoming familiar with their surroundings. Kensley started meekly at first, finding his courage the longer they played.

Eventually they slogged to shore and flopped onto their sand chairs.

The day had heated up immensely, so Kensley was glad for the umbrella’s shade.

Bishop pulled chilled bottles of water from the cooler, and they both drank.

Kensley was exhausted from the swim, content with the location, and safe with the company… .

And he woke to Bishop gently shaking his ankle. Kensley had fallen asleep in his chair, leaving him with a crick in his neck and a numb ass. “Ugh, what time is it?”

“About three in the afternoon,” Bishop replied.

“Did you tell that by looking at the sun and shadows?”

He chuckled. “My cell phone is in the cooler’s front pocket. I checked before I woke you.”

“You let me sleep the afternoon away?”

“You look so peaceful when you sleep. I also ate a protein bar while you napped, but I imagine you’re starving by now.”

“Definitely hungry. I slept right through lunch. Any more of those protein bars?”

Bishop handed him one, chilly from the cooler. “Here. It’ll hold off the hunger pangs while I cook.”

“I can cook. You keep cooking for me.”

“I really don’t mind. I genuinely enjoy cooking.” Bishop’s warm smile was everything. “And I finally have someone in my life important enough to cook for.”

Kensley pulled him in for a long kiss. “Then let’s go, so you can cook for us.”

For several hours that afternoon, Bishop had been able to pretend he and Kensley truly were on vacation.

Playing and swimming in the lagoon had been amusing and relaxing, and he’d loved witnessing Kensley’s courage grow with each new dive.

Sitting by the shore and watching Kensley sleep in the shade of their umbrella had given Bishop images of doing this far into the future.

Of sharing these simple, quiet moments with the man he loved.

Yes, loved. The feelings were intense and terrifying and exciting, and Bishop couldn’t deny what he felt for Kensley: he was in love with his charus, the other half of his fated charum, and he would do everything in his power to protect what they were creating.

Since Bishop planned on returning to the lagoon many more times this week, he left the umbrella and chairs behind, collected the towels and cooler, and then led Kensley back to the house.

He was keenly aware of their surroundings, despite this morning’s report from Walsh that the island was quiet.

Despite a text he’d sent about twenty minutes ago, asking for a report, and receiving the same.

Bishop could relax in increments, but he would never let his entire guard down.

Doing that could get him and Kensley killed. Or worse.

He sent Kensley to take a shower, while he went into the kitchen to plan their dinner. The pantry and freezer were fully stocked, which gave him plenty of options.

When Kensley entered the kitchen in fresh board shorts and a sleeveless tee, seared fish filets were finishing off in the oven with a pan of roasting potatoes, while Bishop completed a simple garlic-lemon sauce on the stovetop.

Kensley strolled with ease and confidence now, and it was a beautiful change to see.

“I’ve changed my mind, this is what heaven is,” Kensley said. “A handsome, half-naked man cooking me dinner in a gorgeous beach house.”

“It’s our heaven for right now. Wine? There’s a bottle of white that will go perfectly with the fish.”

“Okay.”

Bishop poured them each a glass from a chilled bottle of chardonnay, then handed one to Kensley. Bishop wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but he wanted tonight’s meal to be…well, romantic. Wasn’t wine romantic?

Kensley sniffed the rim of the glass, pert nose wrinkling. “Here’s to new experiences.” He tipped the glass and the pale-yellow liquid slipped between his pink lips. Bishop watched, entranced by the simple sight, and then happy when Kensley grinned. “Okay, this is pretty good. When can we eat?”

Bishop glanced at the microwave’s timer. “About four more minutes. Just enough time to set the table.”

“I’ll—”

“No, I’ll do it. You enjoy the wine.”

“If you insist.” Kensley took his glass to the table and sat, his gentle smile never wavering.

Bishop couldn’t explain his bone-deep need to take care of Kensley: to cook and serve and pamper this man, when he’d never done this for a romantic partner.

Not that he’d ever had a romantic partner before.

And this thing between him and Kensley? It was deeper than romance.

Deeper than anything Bishop could describe or quantify, except with the word charus.

The fated charum was as mythical to him as the word soulmates or one true love.

Things people whispered about, words tossed around in movies by paid actors.

Not anything he’d given credence to in real life.

But he truly did feel like Kensley was the other half of him, missing his entire life, and now he was complete. Whole.

No matter the word, he had to protect it.

He delivered cutlery and napkins to the table, followed by their plated food.

Kensley’s eyes shined like someone being served a gourmet meal of lobster, caviar and the rarest summer vegetables, when it was simple fish and potatoes.

But it was more than the food. It was the effort.

It was someone else doing for Kensley, when Kensley had spent the last fourteen years of his life in service to others.

“It smells amazing,” Kensley said. “We so rarely got to eat fish. What kind is this?”

“Snapper. I’m not well-versed in fish cookery, though, so I apologize if it’s a little overdone.”

“Like I’d know if it was.”

The fish was a little overcooked, but neither of them complained, and Bishop refilled Kensley’s glass twice before they finished eating.

Kensley’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright, and he was definitely tipping from loose into drunk, even with all the food.

He had no tolerance to speak of. They both washed the dishes, because Bishop didn’t quite trust Kensley not to drop a plate, especially when Kensley blew suds at him and started giggling.

Tonight was going to end a bit sooner than Bishop had hoped, but that was okay.

They had at least two weeks here on the island, maybe longer, depending on what was happening back home.

Once the kitchen was in order, he led Kensley into the living room.

It had a long sectional sofa, and he settled them on the side closest to the huge windows.

They had a great view of the dimming sky and rising stars.

Kensley rested against his chest, one hand plucking at the hem of Bishop’s shorts. Bishop grabbed that hand and rested it over Bishop’s heart instead. “Relax for a while,” he whispered. “There’s no rush.”

“Mmm. S’there more wine?”

“If you have any more, you’re going to pass out.”

“Keep me safe if I do?”

“Always.” He pressed his lips to Kensley’s temple. “You’re mine, Kens.”

“Yeah.”