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He sometimes thinks he likes her hair most of all – he likes the way it looks, spilling over her shoulders, and he likes how it feels when he runs his fingers through it, the silky strands never catching on tangles. She never cuts it or pulls it back when they're alone together, and something about it simply catches his eye time after time, prompting him to reach out towards it.
Other days it's her skin that attracts his attention – she stays fair, even in the summer, and so her skin is pale and clean, and he likes how it feels pressed against his, how it seems like every one of his nerves stirs and just needs her to feel complete again. She's smooth and unblemished, except for her hands, which make him shiver every time she runs them up his stomach, or kneads the muscles at his neck, or even just cradles his face, tracing the lines under his eyes.
In truth, it changes from day to day – he likes her smile, and the way her whole face lights up when he kisses her, and he likes her legs, wrapped warm and strong around his waist, and he likes her lips, soft and full and always, always seeking out his.
He knows Winry sometimes wishes he told her more – more about his journeys, or the struggles he's faced, or the way he feels about them – and while Ed's sympathetic he still can't bring himself to do so, even for her.
When he's with her, those memories, that journey – that person – is far away, so completely removed from himself that Ed feels brand new, as if she's reconstructed him in a whole new way. This is what he's come home for; he feels no reason to go back.