All The Pretty Lights (The "A" List #1) by Tara Oakes

the title in the inventory of people I’m meeting.
    Next, is Theodore, or Teddy as he asks me to call him. Teddy is Colt’s personal photographer. It’s explained to me that he travels along to media events to get behind the scene pictures that will be released to the media in a controlled way, unlike the paparazzi photos that are taken in droves. Shorter than most men, with a little beer belly, Teddy stands out among the younger crowd, not only by the difference in age and pile of fluffy, silver hair on the sides of his head, but also by his not conforming to the industry standard like Tracy and Albert.
    Teddy seems to be more than comfortable in his own skin and doesn’t appear to give two shits if others aren’t. I like him already. His plump hand is soft and his grey eyes kind.
    I begin to lose track of some of the names as the introductions continue. There’s Shauna, Colt’s personal aesthetician and massage therapist. Shauna looks to be very Scandinavian and very, very strong, with perfect skin. She reminds me of one of those gorgeous gladiators from that Saturday mornings TV show I used to watch as a kid.
    I picture her dressed in a body suit of stars and stripes while balancing a pole with foam ends, fighting another Amazonian princess on a tight rope just as I remember the women on the show doing, all the while showing  her perfect complexion.
    After Shauna, I hate to say I don’t remember any of the names, but I’m sure I’ll have the opportunity to get to know them while we’re spending countless hours traveling between premieres.
    “You alright? You look a little pale.” Colt takes me off to the side.
    I try to hold my smile, knowing all my new co-workers are watching our exchange. “Sure. It’s--, it’s just a lot.”
    “I know it is, but, you’ll get used to it crazy quick. Believe me.” Colt holds my elbow like he wants to hold me in place. What’s he afraid of? That I’ll run off? “Hey, Albert!” He calls over the crowd. “I’m gonna get dressed now. Can you bring Daphne something to drink, please? We’ll be in the bedroom.”
    Thankful for the opportunity to get out of here and have some privacy, I gladly follow Colt’s lead, sneaking through the chaos to the ornately carved back double door of the master bedroom.
    Once inside, I lean back against the wall nearest to my right and let out a long, exasperated breath. That was a lot.
    Colt watches me from the corner of his eye, as if he’s maybe expecting me to faint. I swallow hard, and stand tall.
    “Ok.” I’m speaking to myself as much as to him, getting my bearings together. “Let’s get started. Let’s get you dressed.”
    Colt’s eye twinkles, and a sly smile plays out over his lips. A rush of heat hits me like there’s a nearby fire. His shirt is the first to drop to the floor. My mouth goes dry.
    Next, the light clattering as his belt is unbuckled and the jeans he wears drop down passed his hips. My ears begin to ring.
    His powerful body moves effortlessly when he steps out of his pants and kicks them away, the denim landing on the carpet in a wrinkled ball somewhere to the side. My heart begins racing forcing blood in loud thuds throughout my body.
    Colt’s thumbs insert themselves under the elastic waistband of the plaid boxers he wears. The material is pushed away enough for me to see the deep indented muscular notch of his hip, and the soft protrusion of the vein that seems to be flexing wildly, snaking its way down to—
    His lips curl themselves into a smile as he watches me watch him.
    The cocky grin that he’s famous for is on full display on his camera-ready face, while much lower, something else all together is on display.
    I try to catch my breath. I can’t.
    Stumbling back, I feel the soft, plush corner of the mattress hit the back of my legs and I fall against it, sitting, holding onto the post of the four corner post bed frame for support.
    Holy. Shit.
    Colton Webb’s penis . Colton. Webb’s.