Only One Bed Trope Novels & Stories

I thanked the driver, giving him his tip as I began my exploration. It was labeled a bungalo but was more akin to a villa. I walked the kitchen, which was fully stocked. I followed along, seeing the office which door was already closed. Triston was definitely the reason the even offered offices in vacation homes. Still, I moved forward checking every door and room. Only one was left unventured, which left a burning feeling in my stomach. I pushed open the door and was greeted by the masterbedroom. The only bedroom. With one bed.

She decided not to argue anymore—if she pushed too much, he might actually make her sleep outside in the cold. A few moments later, the hotel employee from earlier escorted them to the entrance of what was clearly a VIP suite. In front of the luxurious maroon door—made of expensive wood and thick glass—was a sign that read "Presidential Suite." Below that, written in gold ink, was the name "Alexander Montefalco." Nicole remained silent as her boss opened the door, but as soon as she stepped inside, another problem arose. There was only one bed. She didn’t even bother admiring the grandeur of the suite—the floor-to-ceiling glass wall showcasing a breathtaking view of small mountains and a cry

Raven asks. Shit. Right. There’s bad news too. I hold my breath. “The room only has a single mid-sized bed.”

"Because my enemies watch everything. They need to believe we're happily married. And happy couples share bedrooms." Lorrie stepped inside, and her breath caught. The room was enormous. A massive king-sized bed occupied the center, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering city skyline. A fireplace crackled softly in the corner, illuminating a private sitting area. It looked like a luxury penthouse from a movie. But all she could focus on was the bed. One bed. One mattress. One year. She swallowed hard. "We're sleeping together?" Lorenzo shed his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a chair. "Relax. I don't sleep with women who don't want me."

Third Person POV Nicklaus walks into his bedroom, he frown at how scattered his blanket and sheets are. But he’s too tired to complain, he takes off his suit and toss it on a couch.. he kicks his shoes off and falls on the bed. He sniffs the sheets as a sweet fragrance swifts through his nose. “Did the laundry man change his washing soap?” He wonders. He sniffs it again and smile. “I like this soap!” He said to himself. Soon he’s already snoring. Meanwhile, Graham couldn’t catch Anastasia.

While lost in admiring the room, Annie suddenly remembered an important detail: it had only one bed. Yes, just one bed! This room just had one bed! Annie bit her lip, feeling increasingly awkward. She tilted her head to look at Finn, who had seated himself on a small sofa in the room. She spoke softly. "Um, Finn, there's only one bed in the room, and sharing it might not be convenient, so I'll sleep on the floor with a blanket. I won't bother you." Annie vividly remembered Finn's initial disdain when they first met, so she naturally refrained from getting too close to him now.

We located our room quickly and I scowled as I stormed up to it, swiped the key card and pushed it open. The room was nice, I’d give it that. Modern décor, clean linens, and a decent view of the city. But my appreciation for the space evaporated the moment I saw the bed. One bed. A king, yes, but still only one. Matteo set his bag down by the door and surveyed the room with a low whistle. “Not bad. I’ve stayed in worse places.” “Good for you,” I said, walking over to the bed. “I’ll take the couch.”

****** The honeymoon suite was ridiculous. It was the kind of hotel room that existed solely to make normal people feel inadequate about their life choices. Rose petals were scattered across the king sized bed. Champagne chilled in a silver bucket. The bathroom had a tub big enough to swim laps in and a shower with approximately seventeen different nozzles, each one promising a different kind of water based luxury. There was only one bed. We were supposed to be newlyweds. Newlyweds did not request twin beds. Newlyweds did not sleep in separate rooms. Newlyweds shared a bed and did newlywed things that I had spent the entire car ride trying very hard not to think about.

NOVA “One, you will sleep in my bed,” he tells me and my blood runs cold in my veins. He’s a fucking perv! That’s what he is! How could he ask me to sleep in his bed? "What?" I hiss, rage already stirring inside of me. "You heard me," he says calmly. "Every night you must sleep in my bed. With me." My heart slams against my chest. "You're insane." "Possibly," he replies. "But I'm also the only reason you're not in shackles right now. You want my protection? My silence? Then you follow my rules."

Walking around the car, I took his hand and led him to the stairs to the central part of the house. When we designed the house, we went pretty basic. So there is only one bedroom. The whole point of this house was a place to take lovers and not worry about being interrupted. So having only one bedroom meant we took turns using it for privacy. We’d just gotten to the top of the stairs when Darren’s arm wrapped around me, pulling me flush to him. I groaned, feeling the sparks of the bond and that hardon I’d left unfulfilled in his shorts pressing against my ass. My eyes closed with a sigh as he kissed my neck. I can get used to this.