“Just the heat,” she lied, and drove into the neon night, already composing the text she’d send after shift: “You still breathing?”
Cristina caught her wrists—gently, firmly. “Look at me. Breathe. I need you to step back so I can work.”
The Midnight Shift
Cristina keyed the mic. “En route.”
She knew the answer would be yes. For once, so was she.
Cristina’s breath caught. “It’s the training.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “You okay, Miller? You’re flushed.” EroticSpice 21 08 24 Cristina Miller Paramedic
“Unit EroticSpice 21-08-24, we have a 10-56. Possible overdose at the Lotus View Apartments. Code 3.”
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.
“You did good,” Cristina said softly. “You called in time.” “Just the heat,” she lied, and drove into
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.
Cristina stood up, her heart a war drum. “Give me your phone,” she said.
Jake bagged the patient while Cristina started an IV. The man coughed, gagged, then took a ragged breath. “He’s coming around,” Jake said. I need you to step back so I can work
But Cristina didn’t hear him. She was still holding Lena’s gaze, the pulse in her own throat hammering. The moment stretched—fever-hot, intimate. Then the sirens of the backup unit snapped it.