A smile hits his eyes, but not his lips, which remain in a neutral line. He takes a short step back and reaches behind him, pulling his jersey off with one quick tug. A white V-neck tee slides back into place. His bare arms are tanned, roped with thick muscles and corded with veins that are possibly sexier than his smile. Rather than handing it to me, he rolls the fabric on each side like he’s prepared to dress me. His hands are another of my favorite features, wide fingers and squared nail beds, calluses and each slight imperfection making a tally on my list of favorites.