" I rub my sternum to alleviate the sensation, then drag my arms out of Jeb’s shirt and slip the lingerie on underneath.
My blush burns hotter to find each item fits perfectly . . . that Morpheus knows my body without ever having run his fingers over it; even more, he knows how I’ve been craving pretty things since I left the asylum. He knows me. "

― A.G. Howard , Ensnared (Splintered, #3)