He Sees You When You’re Sleeping: A Dark and Steamy Holiday Romance of Obsession and Secrets – Where Desire Meets Danger in the Heart of NYC

Maybe it’s the two peppermint martinis, or maybe it’s Jack. But I feel my cheeks flush as the room increases in temperature and I have the sudden urge to remove the sweater I’m wearing. “It’s nobody, really. Just . . . a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” Sloane’s grin widens. “A friend who makes you blush like that? Come on, give me something here. I’m seriously worried that you may die of boredom someday. Change my mind that you aren’t actually living the most boring existence known to man.”

I feign being offended, but she has no idea just how not boring I am. Living this double life as of late has been anything but dull.

I take a deep breath, weighing my options. On one hand, I don’t want to lie to Sloane. On the other, I’m not sure I’m ready to share this . . . whatever it is with Jack.

“Okay, fine,” I concede. “It’s a guy I met recently. We’re . . . getting to know each other.”

Sloane squeals, earning us a few curious glances from nearby patrons. “I knew it! Tell me everything. Is he hot? Smart? Rich?”

“Safe,” I say and am shocked to hear myself say as the first word to describe Jack.

“Safe?” Sloane repeats, her brow furrowing. “That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement. What do you mean by ‘safe’?”

I take a sip of my drink, trying to find the right words. “I mean . . . he’s a fireman.”

Sloane’s eyes widen, and she lets out a low whistle. “A fireman? Well, that certainly explains the ‘safe’ comment. But girl, you’re holding out on me! A fireman is definitely not boring.”

I play punch her arm. “I’m not boring, you know. I have some juicy secrets. You might just not know them all.”

Oh yes. The martinis are most definitely taking hold.

Sloane inches closer, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Ooh, secrets? Now we’re talking. Come on, spill! What juicy secrets are you hiding, Miss Boring?”

I bite my lip, realizing I’ve said too much. The alcohol is making me loose-lipped, and I need to be careful. “I . . . I meant that there’s more to me than you might think.”

“Clearly,” Sloane says, eyeing me suspiciously. “First a hot fireman, now mysterious secrets. Who are you and what have you done with sweet Chloe?”

I laugh nervously, trying to deflect. “Maybe I’m just full of surprises.”

“Well, don’t stop now,” Sloane urges. “Give me something. Anything. I’m dying here!”

I hesitate, weighing how much I can safely reveal. “Okay, fine. Let’s say . . . I’ve been doing a side project. Not just for Hailey.”

Sloane’s eyebrows shoot up. “Cheating on me?”

“Not exactly,” I hedge. “It’s more . . . personal. Just exploring another side of me.”

Sloane’s voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Another side of you? What, like a secret identity? Are you moonlighting as a superhero or something?”

I laugh at the irony. If only she knew how close to the truth she was. “Not quite a superhero. But may involve . . . costumes.” I take another sip. “And leather, whips, cuffs, and—” I shrug. “Maybe.”

Sloane’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, and she nearly spits out her drink. “Wait, what? Are you saying . . . are you doing some kind of . . . kinky stuff?”

My face burns, realizing I’ve gone too far. “I . . . it’s not . . . I mean . . .”

“Oh my God,” Sloane whispers, leaning in even closer. “You are! Little Miss Vanilla is secretly a dominatrix or something, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m far from vanilla. But I’m also not a dominatrix. But I do have an account on Dark Secrets. I have subscribers and I like to . . . perform. Do live videos and . . .”

Sloane’s mouth drops open, her eyes widening in shock. “Dark Secrets? As in the adult content platform? Chloe, are you serious?”

I nod slowly, the full weight of my admission sinking in. There’s no taking it back now.

“Holy shit,” Sloane breathes. “I can’t believe it. You’re like . . . a camgirl?”

I wince at the term. “It’s not exactly like that. It’s more . . . artistic. Sensual. I don’t do hardcore stuff, and I hide my face for the most part. I keep my identity private.”

Sloane leans back, studying me with new eyes. “Wow. I never would have guessed. You always seemed so . . . reserved.”

“That’s kind of the point,” I say, feeling strangely relieved to finally share this secret. “It’s a way to explore a different side of myself. To be someone else for a little while.”

Sloane nods thoughtfully. “Well, girl, I have to say—I’m impressed. And a little jealous. Here I thought you were spending your nights curled up with a book and a cup of tea.”

I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in months. “Well, sometimes I do that too. A girl needs balance, you know?”

“And the fireman? Is that how you met him?”

I shake my head. “No. In fact, I think that’s one of my hang-ups about the fireman. I’ve been with vanilla men all my life. I’m ready for a change.”

Sloane leans back, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, the fireman doesn’t know about your . . . extracurricular activities?”This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

I shake my head, feeling a twinge of guilt. “No, he doesn’t. And I’m not sure how to bring it up. Or if I even should.”

“Oh, hon,” Sloane says, patting my hand. “If you’re serious about this guy, you’ll have to tell him eventually. But maybe not on the first date.”

I nod, grateful for her understanding. “It’s just . . . complicated. I like Jack, I really do. But this other part of me . . . it’s important too.”

“Jack, huh?” Sloane grins. “So the fireman has a name. And a pretty hot one at that.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “Yes, his name is Jack. And he’s . . . he’s different. Kind, funny, and yes, hot.”

“But you want something less safe,” she says.

I nod slowly, feeling conflicted. “Maybe. I don’t know. And I’m probably overthinking this. Jack and I haven’t even been on a real date yet.”

Sloane takes a long sip of her drink, studying me thoughtfully.

“Maybe Jack has hidden depths too. Or maybe he’d be open to exploring new things with you. Plus, firefighters are used to handling heat, right?”

I groan at her terrible pun but a laugh still escapes. “That was awful.”

“You love it,” she grins. “But seriously, don’t write him off just because he seems safe. Give him a chance. Maybe he’ll surprise you. Also, don’t hold back on this Dark Secrets thing either. Explore it. Live it. Fuck . . . maybe I need to as well.”

I nearly choke on my drink. “You? On Dark Secrets?”

Sloane shrugs. “Why not? I could use some excitement in my life. Plus, it might be fun to explore my wild side a bit.”

“Trust me, your wild side is plenty explored,” I laugh, remembering some of Sloane’s more outrageous escapades.

“Well trust me on one thing,” she says. “Now that I know this about you, we are going to have much more fun! No more cocktails at geriatric hour for us.”

I giggle, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation at Sloane’s words. “Oh no, what have I unleashed?”

“Only the best kind of chaos,” Sloane says with a wink. “Now, finish that drink and give me your username so I can look you up.”

I nearly choke on my drink. “My username? Oh no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on! I won’t tell a soul,” Sloane wheedles. “And I promise I won’t judge. And who knows, maybe I’ll even become a subscriber.”

The thought of Sloane watching my videos makes me squirm. “That’s . . . really not necessary. And obviously this stays between us.”

Sloane pouts but nods. “Fine, keep your secrets. For now. But don’t think this conversation is over.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful for the reprieve. “Thanks. And really, it’s not that exciting. Mostly me in lingerie, maybe a little role play . . .”

“Uh-huh,” Sloane says, clearly unconvinced. “Well, whatever it is, I’m proud of you for exploring that side of yourself. But I also need to put on my corporate, responsible hat too. Be careful. Jasmine is conservative.”

I nod. “I know about the morality clause in the contract. Trust me. It keeps me up at night.”

Sloane’s expression turns serious. “Good. Because as much as I love this wild side of you, I’d hate to see you lose your job over it. Jasmine can be unforgiving when it comes to the company’s image.”

I nod, feeling a knot form in my stomach. “I know. That’s why I’m so careful about keeping my identity hidden. No face shots, nothing that could tie back to me or Moth to the Flame.”

“Smart,” Sloane says, finishing her drink. “But also . . . kind of sad, isn’t it? That we have to hide parts of ourselves to keep our jobs?”

I sigh, tracing the rim of my glass. “Yeah, it is. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

Sloane reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Hey, don’t go there. You’re talented, Chloe. Your work at Moth to the Flame is important. And if this . . . other thing . . . helps you express yourself, then more power to you. Just be careful, okay?”

I squeeze her hand back, grateful for her support. “I will.”

As we sit in companionable silence, my phone buzzes again. I glance down to see another message from Jack.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Just wanted to say goodnight and sweet dreams, Scrooge.”

A smile tugs at my lips, warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Ooh, is that the firefighter again?” Sloane asks, noticing my expression.

I nod, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Yeah. He’s . . . he’s sweet.”

Sloane grins. “Well, don’t keep him waiting. Go on, text him back. I promise not to peek.”

I laugh and pick up my phone, my fingers hovering over the keys. How do I balance these two sides of myself? The Chloe who’s drawn to Jack’s warmth and safety, and the one who craves the excitement and freedom of my alter ego?

Goodnight, Jack, I type. Sweet dreams to you too. And don’t worry, no eggnog-drowning here. Just some holiday cheer with a friend. Looking forward to our date.

I hit send and put my phone away, turning back to Sloane with a smile. “Now, where were we? I believe you were about to tell me about your family’s infamous eggnog incident of 2018 again.”

Sloane’s eyes light up mischievously. “Oh, you’re in for a treat. Picture this: My Uncle Fred, who fancies himself a mixologist, decided to ‘improve’ on Grandma’s secret recipe . . .”

As Sloane launches into her tale, complete with dramatic reenactments and colorful impressions of her relatives, I find myself laughing harder than I have in months. The weight of my secrets, my conflicting feelings about Jack, and my worries about work all fade into the background, if only for a moment.

By the time we stumble out of the bar hours later, my sides ache from laughing and my head is pleasantly buzzing from the cocktails. The crisp night air hits us as we step onto the sidewalk, and I shiver, pulling my coat tighter around me.

“Well, that was fun,” Sloane says, linking her arm through mine as we walk. “We should do this more often. But now I’m going to go home and find you on Dark Secrets.”

I nearly trip over my own feet. “Oh Jesus.”

“Night!” she shouts as she leaves before I can protest any further.