All Chapters of Black Coffee With No Sugar: Chapter 31 - Chapter 36

For the next two weeks, Zion stayed home, turning his usually packed schedule into one that revolved around Amy. Though she repeatedly insisted she didn’t need a “babysitter,” Zion brushed off her protests with the same calm determination that made him so infuriatingly Zion.“This is unnecessary,” Amy grumbled one morning as she sat on the couch, her leg propped up on a cushion while Zion adjusted the ice pack on her ankle. “I can take care of myself, you know.”“I’m sure you can,” Zion replied without looking at her, his tone infuriatingly even. “But humor me, will you?”Amy folded her arms and huffed, glaring at the ceiling. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the help—her swollen ankle was proof enough she needed it—but having Zion hovering over her, day in and day out, was another matter entirely.Despite her complaints, Zion was relentless in his care. He

Zion was halfway through his cup of coffee when he heard it—the confident click-clack of stilettos echoing down the hallway. He lifted his eyes, and there she was.Amy.Wearing a sleek, curve-hugging corporate gown in charcoal grey, her hair pinned up in a way that exposed her long neck and delicate earrings. Zion blinked. Once. Twice.She looked like a boss, a queen, a walking distraction.The mug paused midair. His grip loosened for a fraction of a second. That’s all it took.SPLASH.A splash of hot coffee spilled straight down the front of his white shirt.“Sir! You just…” one of the maids exclaimed, rushing toward him with a napkin, gesturing at the growing stain.Zion groaned under his breath. “Damn it.”He dabbed at his chest with the napkin, clearly not amused.Amy walked in fully now, like she was gliding, her grin way too self-satisfied. She pulled out a chair beside him, placed her bag carefully on the floor, and crossed her legs with a casual confidence.“Someone got distrac

The room was quiet except for the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the occasional gust of wind brushing against the windowpane. The night was dimly lit by the soft golden glow of the bedside lamp, casting delicate shadows across the room. The sheets were soft beneath them, a delicate contrast to the storm of emotions pulsing in the air. Zion lay beside her, his fingers brushing gently over her arm, tracing invisible lines up to her shoulder. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just below her ear—light, almost reverent. Amy’s breath hitched, her body tensing slightly at the contact before melting into it. "You’re trembling," he whispered against her skin, his voice hoarse with restraint. "Is it me... or the anticipation?" Amy didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Her eyes said enough—half-lidded, glassy, unsure whether to hold back or fall completely. Zion continued slowly, deliberately. He placed feather-light kisses along the curve of her neck, pausing at the base of her throat. His