I've recently been having a number of conversations with authors about what makes something sexy. Obviously, the physical sexy - how someone looks - is very personal. One person might be all about the abs (well, sure), someone else about hip bones (okay, that's me. I don't know why - I did an entire blog post on the sexy of hip bones), and someone else again is all about the cut of the jaw. Hair, eyes, lips, butt, legs, chest... anything can be the sexiest bit for you.
In much the same way, the situational bit of sexy is individualistic. The popularity of BDSM and menage make it clear that there are a number of people who find these ideas sexy. The rise of paranormal fiction puts another layer of fantasy on sexy.
But really, at the core, I think sexy is about one thing: what makes YOU lose YOU. What do I mean by that? I mean that you don't feel sexy when you're thinking about how your leg is angled or how your tummy looks or whether the people next door can hear you. You aren't feeling sexy if you are contemplating painting the ceiling or thinking about cleaning the litter box. You aren't even feeling sexy when you think about whether you can walk in the four inch heels you bought or whether the skirt is long enough to get away with going commando.
No, you feel sexy when you AREN'T THINKING AT ALL. When your body takes over and all you know is instinct and drive and pleasure. Sexy isn't about what you are doing, or who you are with, or what you are wearing. It's about losing yourself in the moment.
And that's why books are so good at sexy - they allow you to lose yourself in the moment. To graft onto the action and the characters whatever it is that makes you lose yourself.
Go ahead. You know you want to. I'll start you off with an excerpt I find really sexy. Sure, it's one of mine, but don't let that stop you. This is from This Fire, which is in a duology with Ella Drake. I hope you enjoy it.
Eden froze in the process of turning her head to look at him.
Seth's big hands left her waist and resettled on her ankles. Eden sucked in a surprised
breath as his fingertips skimmed over her calves to the backs of her knees. Her legs
nearly buckled and heat shot through her body, tightening her nipples into hard points
against the lace of her teddy. She stifled a moan as his fingers feathered under the hem of
“You wore a skirt for me.”
“I like it. And I appreciate that you did it for me. I like to show my appreciation.”
Eden’s eyes popped wide as her brain stuttered over the possibilities inherent in that