Edward Breaks Bed Novels & Stories

Ralph's voice roared like an enraged lion, but Ambrose wasn't intimidated in the slightest. He deliberately leaned down and kissed my sleeping face with an exaggerated smirk. "She just fell asleep. I'm afraid she can't take your call right now," he said. Ambrose glanced at me in his arms, noticing my restless sleep. His expression softened. "Looks like I went a little too far earlier. I'll have to make it up to her when she wakes up," he thought.

The silence was suffocating.Justina froze, her body tangled in the sheets, her mind screaming at the absurdity of the moment. Only minutes ago, she had been pinned beneath Carson, lost in the heat of a storm she swore she’d never surrender to. Now, a child stood in the doorway, his gray eyes wide, clutching a stuffed bear like a shield. Carson moved first. His hand tightened briefly on hers as an unspoken warning to stay silent before he rose from the bed, pulling his discarded shirt over his shoulders with a swift, practiced motion.

My lids snapped open, eyes widening at the sight of three girls at the door, one with her camera out. "What... What are you..." I stopped when the hand moved, and I felt the breath against the back of my neck. My stomach sank. No way... NO damn way. Red-faced and rigid, trying to block out the giggling, I whispered, "Tristan... Hey... Tristan..." "What?" he grumbled sleepily. I swallowed. "Open your eyes." "Why?" "Just wake up now!" I didn't need to ask if he did, because seconds later, he was cursing and scrambling out of bed. "What the fuck, Mila?! What the fuck!"

He collapsed onto the mattress, falling into a deep sleep within seconds, his breathing turning heavy and steady. ​Eileen stood at the edge of the bed, watching him in silence as a bitter mix of pity and disappointment welled up in her chest. His recurring drunkenness was a painful reality she had grown accustomed to living with, but seeing him like this night after night was slowly gnawing away at their souls. She let out a soft, pained sigh and stepped forward to adjust his posture so he could rest, pulling the blanket up to cover his sprawled body. ​Suddenly, amidst the absolute silence that enveloped the room, his phone screen—lying on the nightstand—lit up.

— I don’t think anything of it until we get to the room. Until I open the door. Until I step inside— And stop. There’s one bed. One. Single. Bed. I blink. Once. Twice. Nope. Still one bed. “Are you kidding me?” I breathe. Behind me, Shakes leans against the doorframe, way too calm for someone who should be equally annoyed. “Huh,” he says. “That’s… unfortunate.” I turn to him slowly. “Unfortunate?” “For you,” he adds.

The morning sun rose bright and cold over Manhattan, filling the master bedroom of the brownstone with a soft, silver light. Inside the quiet room, Ethan lay under the heavy duvet. His face was relaxed, his breathing deep and slow. The constant, heavy weight of fear that had rested on his chest for months was completely gone. Beside him, Adrian was fast asleep, one large, warm arm draped gently over Ethan’s waist, keeping him close.

“If you’re tired, you should sleep a bit more. I’m going to work soon. Breakfast is on the table.” Ariadne's head appears above the blankets. She seems partially revived. “Breakfast?” she croaks, eyes still crusty and closed. Victor chuckles, before crossing the threshold. “Still sleepy, baby.” Ariadne mumbles unintelligibly. Edward steps back, still terrified, squeezing his hands, eyes flickering between them. Victor feels bad for the kid. “Ah, yeah,” Ariadne groans, throwing a hand over her forehead. “Eddie had nightmares last night. Couldn’t sleep.”

She opened her eyes and was about to get up to open the door when she saw the door of the small room inside open, and Edward came out in his pajamas. "You can stay lying down; I'll open the door!" Seeing that she had woken up, Edward spoke and walked towards the door. Clarice knew he was probably afraid someone would find out they weren't sleeping in the same bed, so she followed his instructions. Opening the door, Edward yawned, then saw his mother's right-hand maid, Beatrice, standing at the door. "Sir, good morning!" "What's the matter so early?" Edward looked at the woman and asked, and Beatrice looked at the room and laughed.

He turned in his bed from the left to the right and stretched under the duvet that was covering his body as though he had been sleep deprived for days. Charles’ mouth opened wide and yawned, and opened his eyes faintly. He saw someone sitting at the tail end of his bed, but it was unclear who. For a second he thought he was dreaming till the person got closer and made him jump out of bed. “Father, you scared me. What are you doing in my room?” Charles asked as his heart pounded in his chest. He pushed the duvet away to reveal his body. He was wearing just boxer shorts. “You are so mannerless,” Edward said. “Don’t you know how to greet?” Eddy asked. “And I can’t believe you still prefer to be

The moment he heard me say that, he noticeably paused, but he didn't answer. His movements just became much gentler afterward. When everything ended, Henry lowered me back down and removed my blindfold. I looked at him in surprise. A moment ago, I could've sworn he was completely exhausted, but now, there was barely any sweat on him at all. Maybe I imagined it? Confused, I pushed the thought aside and went to shower before collapsing into bed. That night had worn me out completely. When I woke up the next morning, Henry had already left for work.