Love scenes are, for me, among the most difficult scenes to write in each of my books. I’m constantly asking myself how I can effectively convey the emotion I want to show, mingled with the physicality of the act. How do you talk about that part of his/her body without resorting to silly euphemisms? How do you avoid sounding clinical instead of passionate?

These are all valid concerns for a writer of romance. Our love scenes are important because they mark a vital transition between the hero and heroine. Fail at a love scene (or two or three, depending on the book *g*) and you’ve lost an important means of capturing your reader’s empathy, attention, and caring for your characters.

One of the best ways to ensure that your love scenes are successful (especially the first one in each story, though subsequent love scenes can benefit from this as well, if you have more than one) is to build to the moment. This building process - a.k.a. sexual tension - really does help to create the push that leads to a love scene that rings true and passionate on all counts.

But how do you do it? One thing I try to keep in mind (usually in the back of my mind, since it’s pretty instinctive…though if I find myself struggling with the developing “love” relationship of a hero/heroine I’m writing, I might actively sit down and think about it) is that there are a basic 12 stages of intimacy. The first nine can be done in public. I’m going to list them below for your consideration (these were taken from notes another writer took during a talk Linda Howard gave on the subject at RWA National in 1990):

1. Eye to body (the once-over, often happening in an instant; attraction occurs or it doesn’t).

2. Eye to eye (sustained eye contact doesn’t occur between strangers, usually - only intimates).

3. Voice to voice (small talk, sharing of banter).

4. Hand to hand (demands trust - any “legal” touch that gives the hero an excuse to touch the heroine).

5. Arm to shoulder (body contact - a hug etc)

6. Arm to waist (or small of the back - subtly sexual…men don’t do this with other men).

7. Mouth to mouth (full frontal contact during a kiss)

8. Hand to head/face (requires major trust…during a kiss etc)

9. Hand to body (touch of breast, shoulder, chest etc)

10, 11, and 12 lead in degrees of mouth and hands to body, all the way to consummation but since I don’t want this blog to attract all sorts of odd people googling specific words, I’m not going to write them out. But you get the idea. *g*

And now, in lieu of a personal anecdote, I’m going to give you a short example of the “first kiss” from my upcoming June book SINFUL PLEASURES: The Templar Knights - as it covers quite a few of the stages above in one shot. Although I do have an excerpt for this book posted on my website, it doesn’t include this scene…so RI readers are the first to see it!

To preface it for those who haven’t heard anything about the story or characters, Damien and Alissende were lovers five years prior to the book’s opening. They parted (badly) when she cast him off (she is the daughter of an earl, he a common knight), and though they’ve both never stopped loving each other in secret, there’s a lot of baggage between them. They’ve only come together again in a faux marriage as a form of mutal protection: she’d used her considerable wealth to bribe guards and obtain his freedom from his torture/death as a Templar Knight at the hands of the French Inquisition, and in return he’s given her his name in a proxy marriage, to protect her from an unscrupulous earl bent on claiming her for his own. They’ve just gone through the fake pledging ceremony and feast in front of all her people, and now Damien needs to make it look real by giving her the kiss that everyone expects. Of course it turns out to be quite a bit more than either of them expects, but in a very different way… *g* Ok here it is:

Alissende first noticed that something had changed, subtly perhaps, but changed nonetheless, while she was speaking with Matilda, the miller’s wife. A kind of hush seemed to spread over the gathering of villagers, men-at-arms, and other guests in the main hall, and by instinct, she straightened to see if she could discern the cause.

It took but an instant to realize that the blanket of quiet was in response to Damien. He had unfolded his lean and powerful body to stand in his place at the head table. And he was staring at her.

A jolt of heat unfurled inside. What was this about?

He remained silent, simply gazing at her, and she flushed. She felt warmth fill her cheeks, but she was powerless to prevent it. Oh, but he was handsome. There was no mistaking how he had earned the name Archangel those years ago at court; he was chiseled to muscular perfection, a breathtaking warrior who exuded at once an aura of dangerous sensuality and unwavering resolve that was nothing less than mesmerizing.

He continued to fix her with his stare, and the effect of those eyes upon her - icy blue and yet burning with such a delicious and sinful promise of pleasure - nearly caused her knees to buckle. Vaguely, she heard the scattered sighs and murmurs of adoration that swept through the female portion of this gathering. But she could not look way from Damien. And he would not relinquish his stare upon her, either.

The realization came with a sharp pang; it was the same look he’d given her time and again, before. The one that caressed her as if his hands were playing over her body, unlocking all of her secrets with his touch…that turned her insides to warm honey and caused her heart to beat faster with anticipation of what was to come.

The look that said without a doubt to any who saw it that she was his. His alone.

Sweet Jesu…

“It is time to bid this gathering a fond adieu,” Damien suddenly called out, his voice husky, though still fully audible throughout the chamber. He stepped away from the table, moving deliberately, all the while keeping his gaze locked with hers as he crossed the distance between them. “For while I thank all of you here for your presence in celebration of this blessed day,” he continued, coming closer, and closer, “I find that I can wait no longer to complete the vows I made to your lady. Vows best undertaken…in private.”

If the floor had dropped away from beneath her, Alissende would not have been more surprised than she found herself at this moment. She was rendered speechless - but the chamber around her was not. The room erupted with cheers and masculine calls of encouragement, intermingled with feminine gasps, murmurs, and sighs of envy.

She felt like she’d been swept into another world, to a place that existed only in the tormented shadows of her dreams. In sleep she had surrendered to this very fantasy, had imagined how wonderful this moment might feel. Now that she faced it in truth, she was brought to a shocked standstill.

But there was no time to think on it. Damien had crossed the chamber and was now standing directly in front of her. Alissende blinked, but he did not fade away has he would have in her dream. Nay, he stood close enough that she could have touched him if she wished. Still overwhelmed with all she was feeling, she could not bring herself to undertake that temptation.

Not yet.

Damien seemed to possess no similar reluctance.

Before she could even consider protesting, he slid his left arm around her waist, tugging her full against him, and the sudden rush of sensation made her gasp aloud. But when he raised his right hand to sweep up along her cheek, burying his fingers in her hair to cup the back of her head, everything seemed to go still inside her.

“Play along with me, Alissende - please,” he murmured to her, even as he tipped her back the slightest bit and slanted his mouth over hers for a kiss of such passion that it stole what little breath remained to her.

Sweet angels in heaven…

Damien’s tender assault broke the spell that had held her in thrall, and her instincts surged to life. Arching up, she kissed him back, tasting him fully and reveling in the sweet, hot demand of his mouth on hers. It felt so good…so good to kiss him again, and one hand grasped at the front of his tunic while her other slid up to the nape of his neck, tangling in the thick waves there.
She heard the low sound of pleasure from deep in his throat as he came back for more, and then more again, until she felt lightheaded with the need that rushed through her like licking flames. Her arm tightened over his shoulders lest she sink to the floor in a boneless heap, the barrage of exquisite sensation almost too much to bear.

At last with a feral-sounding growl, he pulled away, though just enough to reach one arm down behind her knees to sweep her up into his embrace. He cradled her against him, and the cheers grew deafening as he carried her toward the doorway that led to the upper floor…to the private chamber they were to share as man and wife…

So that’s it for now. *g* Stay tuned tomorrow, when I’ll be tackling the question, “What is it that causes an editor to reject a submission?”

Question for the day: What is the name of the prestigious award, given out each year by RWA for books that are judged to be the best in their categories?

–MRM