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Bishop stared out the window at the darkening sky, while Kensley relaxed and slowly fell asleep in his arms. The occasional bird flew past, and he faintly heard the crash of the surf far beyond his line of sight. It was almost a perfect moment.

So perfect that Bishop fell asleep. He woke in near-darkness, aware of Kensley squirming on his lap.

Bishop’s instant alertness clocked no dangers in the room, just Kensley moving down the couch and tugging on the waistband of Bishop’s shorts.

Freeing his dick. He didn’t object when Kensley took him into his mouth.

Sucked him to a full erection. Shed his own clothes and knee-walked up the length of the couch.

Bishop helped Kensley guide his cock into Kensley’s wet, waiting hole.

They took their time, moving together in the darkness, the only sounds their own labored breathing, and the occasional squeak of the couch springs.

He let Kensley lead them to their climaxes, neither of them censoring their cries.

There was no need to, no one to hear or shame them for their pleasure.

For finding such beauty in each other.

After lazing together in the afterglow, they rose to shower. Dried each other off. Kissed in bed until the sun rose, and they slept again.

Their time on the island took on a similar pattern of naps, making love, cooking together, and spending time at the lagoon.

On Friday afternoon, they took the longer trek down to the main beach.

Kensley had a blast prowling the shoreline for shells and shiny stones.

He found a small conch shell he delighted in holding to his ear to “hear” the sound of the ocean inside.

The next day, after nothing but “all is quiet” reports from Walsh, and two calls from King that no one was looking outside the tristate area for Kensley, Bishop decided it was time to explore the neighboring open air market.

He asked Walsh to do a quick scan of the boat for any sort of explosives or tracking devices before they arrived at the docks.

The last thing he wanted to do was make Kensley more nervous about the trip by doing the sweep in front of him.

The boat was easy enough to handle for their brief trip, and Kensley looked adorable stuffed into a bright orange life preserver, clinging to the rail as the wind blew his hair back.

At one point in the journey, their island disappeared behind them, and their destination had yet to appear ahead.

They were truly alone in the middle of the ocean, a tiny speck floating on a rolling sea of vast beauty and infinite possibilities.

For a few precious moments, the future was anything they could dream.

And then a brown smudge appeared on the horizon, and the spell was broken.

The feelings remained, though, and Bishop clung to them as he navigated their way to a small, private dock.

King’s golf cart was gassed and waiting for them.

Bishop kept a sharp eye out as he drove, keenly aware of the weight of the pistol strapped to his back, just in case they ran into unexpected trouble.

The market was near the beach. Dozens of stalls stood beneath a tall pavilion with a thatched roof, and even more stalls surrounded it, some with umbrellas for shade, and others with colorful blankets hung on poles.

A gentle breeze came off the water, salting the air and keeping the bright sun from beating down too harshly.

They were approaching the nearest stall when Kensley grabbed his forearm and tugged Bishop to a stop. “Do we have money? I don’t have any money,” he said in a harsh whisper.

“I’ve got cash, it’s okay.” Bishop wanted to kiss him, but they were in an uncontrolled environment. Instead, he gently squeezed Kensley’s hand after prying it off his arm, then released him. “Buy anything you want.”

“What I want to buy is a villa on the water so we can stay forever, but I doubt you’ve got that much cash.”

“You’re right.” But he did have access to that kind of money; money he’d been saving since he got his first job.

And once this entire fiasco with the Castle family was behind them, Bishop had every intention of giving Kensley the dream life he deserved.

“How about we try to spend whatever is in my wallet?”

Kensley grinned. “Challenge accepted.”

The market didn’t have the same tourist trappings as those on the larger, more popular islands, which catered to thousands of visitors a day.

This market was more of a locals’ place, with produce and seafood vendors, potted herbs and spices, baskets and hats and other things woven from the island’s natural grasses.

Several stalls were cooking up different sorts of savory foods, and one vendor had local baked goods.

It reminded Bishop of any farmer’s market back in the States, only with an island vibe.

Kensley led the way, Bishop slightly behind him, both to keep an eye on Kensley and to have a front-row view of all Kensley’s facial expressions.

The curiosity and awe and delight as he inspected every stall, and Bishop did his best not look too much like a bodyguard.

The only purchase they made on the first round was a cup of mango sorbet, which was cold and tasty.

“Ready to start really spending my money?” Bishop teased, while they ate their sorbet in the shade of the pavilion.

Kensley seductively slid his spoon out of his mouth and grinned. “For sure.”