“Just the heat,” she lied, and drove into the neon night, already composing the text she’d send after shift: “You still breathing?”
Her partner, Jake, was already pulling into traffic. He didn’t notice the slight tremor in her fingers as she checked the narc box. He didn’t know that three hours ago, during a lull, she’d let herself imagine something forbidden—his rough hands on her hips, the antiseptic smell of the rig mixing with sweat and salt. EroticSpice 21 08 24 Cristina Miller Paramedic
The woman’s panicked eyes locked onto Cristina’s. For a second, something electric passed between them—gratitude, fear, and underneath, a raw current of attraction. The woman’s name was Lena. Late twenties. Lip ring. Torn fishnets under a waitress apron. “Just the heat,” she lied, and drove into
Lena laughed bitterly. “He does this every month.” Then she looked at Cristina—really looked. “You have nice hands.” The woman’s panicked eyes locked onto Cristina’s
She knew the answer would be yes. For once, so was she.
Cristina keyed the mic. “En route.”
“You did good,” Cristina said softly. “You called in time.”