Booktok Bedroom Novels & Stories

He had a large bed built of dark wood, and it was easily the most expensive piece in the room. Abby couldn't stop herself from wondering what it would be like to be in that bed with him. She flushed, biting the inside of her cheek. Running a hand down the comforter, she smiled at how soft it was. So he likes nice bedding. She could appreciate a man who understood the importance of high-thread counts. The right side table had some books, an empty glass, and a pair of reading glasses. Abby read the titles of the books—all nonfiction about wars or horses—and wandered around the rest of the room.

And then, he was carrying her in his arms, a firm promise that they were far from over as they passed doors and doors until he turned the knob of one of such doors. Floors covered with white flurry soft rugs that tempted her with an urge to dig her leg into and find out if they were as soft as they looked, the walls were made of shelves of rows and rows of books, a real-life orgy for a nerd, the chair and mahogany table at the side, made it look like a study if not for the king-size bed in the middle of the room which she was deposited on.

If he even wanted to hear it in the first place. I pushed the door between our rooms open and stepped into his bedroom. His room was a stark contrast to mine. In the center of the room was a large 4-poster king-sized bed. It was raised on a platform so that it sat higher than your average mattress would. His bedding was a deep, rich, navy blue and soft to the touch. He had very few personal touches in the room I noticed while looking around. A book was on the bedside table, a bookmark saving his page and a whiskey decanter sat on the table next to the leather armchair.

There was also a living room with this cute couch. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning to let me sleep on this tiny couch?” He had this judging gaze at me. “Don’t bother thinking that way. Even I won’t fit in that seat.” I walked towards another door and the bedroom greeted me. The queen size bed was against the smoked glass acting as the divider of room. There’s nothing else there aside from a small cabinet and a dresser. “Caleb, can I ask you a serious question?” I sat down on the bed and placed my back pack on the floor.

A single narrow window was set deep into the thick wall, slicing a thin column of grey morning light that barely reached past the center of the floor. The bed was decent, solid and not uncomfortable, but stripped bare of anything that might make it feel like home. Plain white linens, an iron frame, no softness or warmth. A small table stood nearby, with two chairs pulled up to it. In the corner, a washstand waited silently. On a shelf, three books sat with their spines turned outward: pack history, combat theory, lunar rites. Someone had chosen those carefully, but hadn’t thought about what it meant to make this room a place a person could live in.

Behind the bed was a bookshelf that stretched from wall to wall—she’d been curious where all the grown-up books were hidden, and here she finally found them. She ran a finger across the bed, wondering what it would feel like to sleep in a bed like this. The four poster style was old fashioned, it seemed out of place for the man. Something metal and shiny glinted at the edge of her vision, reflected in the light from the hallway. Emily didn’t dare turn on the lights, what if Jacob drove up and saw his bedroom window illuminated from outside?

To see just what kind of books Spencer enjoyed reading. I didn’t though. I stayed where I was taking in everything. On the other side of the room was a heavy-looking desk in a dark cherry wood finish. A black leather computer chair sat behind it and there was a small lamp off to the side. In the middle of the desk was a slim silver laptop that was closed. To the back of the space was the bedroom. The king-sized four-poster bed was covered in luxurious dark blue silk sheets, and there were two matching nightstands on either side. I could see a door on the far wall that must lead to a bathroom.

Caleb takes the stairs of the pack house two at a time, loping up on long legs toward the main bedroom. “Now that you’re not banished anymore, you can live here, with me!” He turns to me with a big smile, opening the door to his room. It’s gorgeously decorated, with a wooden four poster bed in the center, its posts carved intricately with scenes of wolves hunting together. The curtains are slate gray and the carpet is a deep blue, which is soft and plush under my feet.

I felt like a sneaky little intruder as I checked out the rooms behind closed doors, despite assuring myself that technically he’d ordered me to treat this place like home. Who wouldn’t go everywhere in their own home, right? Right. Even so, I took a breath as I eased the door handle down on the bedroom at the far end of the hallway. This one was definitely his. The bed was huge and neatly made up in dark blue bedding. The bedside cabinets were clear of everything but an alarm clock and a paperback titled Business with Integrity. He’d left it splayed on an open page with the spine up, which is a pet hate of mine when it comes to reading books but was literally the only thing I’d found so far

At least, my attire had amused Paige. Vince's bedroom was enormous: a four-poster bed with two bedside tables on each side, a broad drawer opposite the bed with an LCD television on it, a huge bookshelf beside the double door closet and a chaise lounge sofa in one corner of the room. The bed had a dark red fabric draped between the posts and a double duvet arranged over the bed. I walked over to the bookshelf and traced my hands over the books—all lined alphabetically. He had every play of Shakespeare's stacked on a separate shelf. I began shuffling through the books.