With Ave Carlisle taking care of the children, Forsythia was once again drawn to the game being played by Lucas and Yigol Foster.
This time, it could be said that it was the least Lucas had ever been dressed in Forsythia's observation.
Wearing only a T-shirt, Lucas's smooth arms were exposed, rather delicate. Last time at the bar gathering, she felt that if it weren't for the thin layer of muscle on his arms, they would be as slender as a woman's. But today, upon looking again, she felt a wholly different sense of recognition.
The main thing was there was a comparison.
The muscles on Yigol Foster's arms were relatively thicker and seemed more powerful. Compared to Lucas's thin layer of muscles, it seemed…
Weak!
Yes, that should be the word, weak!
Unintentionally, Forsythia's gaze drifted to Lucas's foot, one shoe off. Perhaps due to a lack of sunlight for an extended period, it was exceptionally white, almost translucent, with the veins clearly visible.
