Eroticspice 21 08 24 Cristina Miller Paramedic Direct

“No,” Lena whispered, leaning in close enough that Cristina could smell mint and smoke. “It’s you.”

Lena laughed bitterly. “He does this every month.” Then she looked at Cristina—really looked. “You have nice hands.” 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. “No,” Lena whispered, leaning in close enough that

Lena typed in her number. As Cristina walked back to the rig, she slipped the paper into her glove compartment—next to the spare pens and the photo of her late dog. “You have nice hands

Jake bagged the patient while Cristina started an IV. The man coughed, gagged, then took a ragged breath. “He’s coming around,” Jake said.

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.