Was it possible to go through withdrawal from something he’d never had? Several weeks had passed since he’d ended up in Frank’s office, and Kit had done everything in his power to ignore Seth, throwing himself into his job from the moment he stepped foot inside the club. He was miserable.

Anytime Kit was tempted to search Seth out, he reminded himself of what was at stake. If he was ever going to open his dance studio, he needed to get his act together. Music and dance were in his blood. His mother was a retired ballerina, his dad a musician. Kit had been dancing since before he could walk, bopping along to his dad’s music when he was still in diapers.

After graduating college, he’d been given the amazing opportunity to go to New York City and live near the bright lights of Broadway. He’d performed in several musicals and shows, but nothing brought him more joy than teaching others, so he became certified to teach dance. His parents were very proud of him and wanted to help, but Kit needed to do this on his own. He was so close to realizing his dreams.

Teaching dance in the mornings at a private university paid well, but not what he needed to get his business started in the timeframe he was hoping for. Landing this gig at Sapphire Sands had been a Godsend because no other club dance job paid what Frank did or offered the opportunity to earn the kind of tips Kit earned without having to do things he wasn’t willing to do. He flirted, kept the men company, and danced with them, but they never expected more from him.

“You can do this,” he told himself as he clocked in. It was fine. He was fine. Everything was going to be fine. Self-control was his middle name.

Heading for the locker room, he frowned when he saw his friends and fellow dancers all crowded at the end of the hall in front of one of the doors that lead out to the dance floor.

“What’s going on?” he asked as he stood on his toes and tried to peer over them.

“Seriously, Kitten? Did you forget about tonight?” Ruby—nicknamed for his gemstone red hair and obsession with Dorothy—shook his head like Kit was too exhausting for words.

Whatever was going on tonight, clearly, he’d forgotten. “What’s tonight?”

“The Sapphire Switch?”

“Oh my God!” Kit gasped. “Out of my way!” He shoved through the horde of his fellow dancers to get to the door, ignoring their protests.

“Damn, Sex Kitten. Watch those bony elbows.”

“Sorry,” Kit murmured, peeking through the slightly open swinging door to the dance floor. How could he have forgotten about the Sapphire Switch? Frank was big on giving back to the community. His LGBT charity events were legendary, and he was always coming up with exciting new ideas.

Twice a year the club hosted the Sapphire Switch, where the dancing staff and floor staff switched places for an evening. The dancers wore all black, their tight T-shirts sporting the Sapphire Sands logo, and the bartenders, along with a handful of security personnel danced in the infamously tiny, sparkly blue shorts. There was a special cover price for the evening, and all the money made from it went to charity. Seth was scheduled to be working tonight which meant he’d volunteered.

“Damn it,” Kit grumbled. “I don’t see him.”

“Don’t see who?”

Kit didn’t have a chance to say another word before Frank’s growly voice made them all jump.

“What the hell is going on here? This ain’t no damn peep show. Go get ready.”

“Eep!” Kit took off along with the rest of his coworkers, making sure not to make eye contact with Frank as he hurried toward the locker room. Inside, he quickly changed into skinny black pants and the skintight club T-shirt that he somehow managed to tuck into his waistband. He might be one of the club’s dancers, but Frank prepared for all occasions, so part of his employee training had covered serving and mixing drinks. A quick check to the roster told him he was working the floor, so he grabbed a round black serving tray lined with a strip of neon lighting in the club’s signature blue.

The excitement out in the club was palpable, and it was more crowded than usual. The bar was packed, his friends busy mixing, serving, flirting, and showing off their bottle flipping skills. An hour into Kit’s shift, the drums and thumping beat of a hardcore electronica mix kicked off. The spotlights went wild before landing in front of the swinging back doors. They exploded open, and a line of huge muscular men in tiny, sparkling blue shorts and matching sneakers danced out. The men in the crowd lost their minds, and Kit’s jaw hit the floor when he spotted Seth in the middle of the lineup. It was a smorgasbord of rippling six packs and bulging biceps with varying degrees of body hair, from smooth, to the light sprinkling on Seth’s chest, to the full-on fur coat one of the security guys sported.

Kit followed Seth with his eyes as the line of men headed for the dance floor then dispersed, each one heading for a plinth, dancing and gyrating with club members along the way. To Kit’s surprise—and secret elation—Seth headed for Kit’s plinth in the center of the floor. He stepped onto it, striking a pose that had Kit salivating. Canting his hips to one side, Seth raised an arm above his head, bending it back and resting it on top of his head, his other arm raised and bent with his hand resting behind his neck. The stance made his muscles bunch, enhanced the delicious curve of his spine, and drew the eye from his expansive shoulders down to his tapered waist to land on his gorgeous ass.

The hell was he thinking? His name wasn’t self-control. It was I’m fucked.