<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/29/fe/e3/29fee345d3ea45a495a6225f5a662886.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Name:</strong> Corwin Lynch<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Dance Floor<br/><strong>Time:</strong> Night is Young <br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> As Shown<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Holly Outerbridge, OPEN<br/></span><hr/>He wasn't sure if honesty was the way to go here. Sometimes it was disarming, sometimes not so much. He went with allowing his silence to say that he'd not wanted to appear too eager to come after her. Or not, whichever worked best with what he could imagine was a fertile imagination. The music was lively, and very much his style, not unlike the woman in his arms. She seemed never to stop moving, and in truth, he was thankful that he'd put his glass down on the way here. He doubted he could keep up at her pace with any kind of coordination if he was drinking.<br/><br/>As it was, he followed her step for step into the center of the dance floor. He feinted to the right, twirling her with his hand in hers so that she was now facing away from him, gripping both her hands in his and drawing them across her waist where his hands settled, releasing her hands and letting her guide with the active movements of her hips. His head dipped down again, assaulted with the heady scent of her hair as he drew close to her ear again, teasing the lobe with his teeth before answering her second question.<br/><br/>"If I'm honest," He growled, a hint of an Irish accent slipping in," I didn't get much further than 'Delectable'."