Walking backward through the crowd while leading a giddily drunk Genevieve and trying to maintain his balance proved to be difficult, but somehow Oliver managed to pull her through to the heart of the dancefloor. The unrelenting beat of the music and the shifting colors of the lights set the mood, and Oliver tried to focus on his dance partner's face rather than the tantalizing way she swung her hips in that dress.
"C'mon, hen." Oliver purred with that thick Scottish accent, matching her movements and bringing his hand to rest at the small of her back. "Get a bit closer."