Your voice is just that: your voice. Don't think in the terms of what you write, think in terms of how you think.
Some people think very adjective heavy.
She held the worn and leathery hand against her cold cheek, cupping and muzzling it. The sweaty and calloused skin smelled of oil and powder; he'd been oiling that old hunting rifle again.
Some people think in ambience.
The crackle of fire carried the smell of home, but it was the simmering stew that made it his. His beloved stood there in but a simple dress, her back to him. Elbows danced as she stirred a meal for two.
Some people think more about implication.
She was the lady of the house now. A title bequeathed to her but days ago. Boots that would always be too large for her, a weight so heavy that even loss and mourning wouldn't dare match it.
Some are more abstract.
Clapping of slippers on dry, cold stone, weighed down by a crown too light to even hint at its own weight. Winter's cruel touch came early that year, almost as if the gods heralded in the beginning of the ever-growing void within her once warm and welcoming heart.
But let's talk about something more direct, more example based. John Grisham. He writes legal thrillers, and you can tell from his voice that he's very direct. His sex scenes aren't teasing and playful; they are direct, to the point. He clearly shows you: this is what you are allowed to know, now you figure out where this is going.
JK Rowling. She is very warm and familial. There's a sense of closeness with her characters, a sense that blood isn't the only bond shared between them. But there's also a sense of a greater narrative. A world exists outside of the scene you're in, implications from earlier scenes are splayed out before you. Some scenes are meandering, slow and easy. Others are almost break-neck fast. But there's always a sense that you aren't alone in dealing with this--and in her first few books, this is almost the central theme. Harry Potter would have died a thousand times over, had he been dealing with all that alone.