She demonstrated by driving her knee into his thigh.

The impact wasn’t full force, but it was enough to make Jordan grunt and buckle slightly. Maya used the moment of weakness to sweep his leg, dumping him onto the canvas with a controlled takedown that left him staring at the ceiling with her weight pinning his hips.

"See?" She was straddling him now, her thighs clamped around his waist, her hands pressing his shoulders into the mat. "If I’d been worried about appropriate contact, I would have hesitated. And hesitation gets you killed."

Jordan’s brain was having trouble processing the lesson.

His body was processing plenty, though.

Maya Santos was sitting on his pelvis. Her compression shorts were thin enough that he could feel the heat of her through his sweatpants. Her abs rose and fell with controlled breathing directly in his line of sight, each ridge of muscle casting small shadows in the gym’s fluorescent lighting. Her sports bra was dark against her olive skin, the fabric strained across her chest in ways that made it very clear she was not small in that department.

And she was staring down at him with an expression that dared him to acknowledge any of it.

Jordan kept his face neutral.

"Point taken."

Maya held the position for two more seconds than necessary.

Then she rolled off him and stood, extending a hand to help him up.

"Again. This time, when I clinch you, I want you to fight for position instead of just accepting it."

Jordan took her hand.

Her grip was calloused and strong, and she pulled him to his feet with the kind of effortless strength that made him question whether the System’s physical upgrades had been as significant as he’d thought.

They reset.

Maya came in fast this time, her hands shooting for his neck and shoulder like striking snakes. Jordan intercepted one arm, got his own hand on the back of her head, and the two of them crashed together in a tangle of limbs that was equal parts violence and something else.

"Better." Maya’s voice was slightly strained now. "You’re fighting for the dominant position. Keep going."

Jordan pushed her head down while she tried to do the same to him. Their bodies pressed together as each fought for leverage, muscle straining against muscle in a contest that felt weirdly intimate despite its combative nature. Jordan could feel her breath on his neck, could feel her heart beating through her chest where it pressed against his, could feel the flex of her core as she adjusted her base.

His own body was responding in ways he couldn’t entirely control.

The sweatpants were forgiving, but not that forgiving.

Maya drove a knee into his thigh again, the same spot as before, and the pain gave Jordan something to focus on besides the warmth spreading through his lower body. He responded by pulling her off balance, using the grip on her neck to torque her body sideways. Maya adjusted instantly, her free hand hooking his hip to maintain position, her leg sweeping behind his to threaten another takedown.

They ended up locked together in a stalemate, both breathing hard, neither willing to concede position.

"Not bad." Maya’s mouth was close to his ear. Her words came out in warm puffs that raised goosebumps on his neck. "You’re learning to commit. To stop overthinking and just act."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"It’s an observation." She released him and stepped back, and the sudden absence of her body heat left Jordan feeling strangely cold. "Take five. Hydrate. We’re going to do this for another thirty minutes."

Jordan nodded and ducked out of the ring.

His legs were shaking slightly, and not entirely from exertion.

Kyle was waiting by the water fountain with an expression that suggested he had observed far more than Jordan wanted him to.

"Clinch work, huh?"

"Shut up."

"I didn’t say anything."

"Your face is saying plenty."

Kyle’s grin widened.

"I’m just noting that Maya Santos has never offered to teach anyone clinch work before. She usually focuses on striking fundamentals. The fact that she’s choosing to get that close to you specifically seems significant."

"It’s not significant. It’s training."

"Training that involves her sitting on your lap and putting her face in your neck." Kyle took a long drink from the fountain. "Very professional. Very normal."

Jordan grabbed his own water bottle and drank deeply, trying to ignore the heat still lingering in places it shouldn’t.

Leo appeared beside him, having apparently decided that Jordan’s water break was a suitable opportunity to share his opinions.

"Dude." Leo’s voice was pitched low enough that Maya wouldn’t hear. "She was straddling you. In public. In a gym. And you’re pretending that’s normal?"

"It is normal. For combat sports."

"Combat sports don’t usually involve eye contact that intense. I’ve watched MMA fights. The clinch does not look like that."

"You’re projecting."

"I’m observing." Leo glanced toward the ring where Maya was shadow boxing, her fists cutting through air with the kind of speed that made Jordan’s recent progress feel meaningless. "That woman could break me in half. Literally. She could snap my spine over her knee like a piece of kindling. And she’s choosing to wrestle around with you instead of anyone else in this gym."

"She’s training me because I asked her to."

"You asked her to sit on your dick?"

"That’s not what happened."

"That is exactly what happened. I have functioning eyes, Jordan. She had her crotch pressed against yours for like thirty seconds. I counted."

Jordan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You counted."

"It seemed relevant."

"It’s not relevant. It’s training. Maya Santos is a professional fighter who is teaching me how to handle close-range combat situations. Nothing else is happening."

Leo’s expression suggested he found this explanation inadequate.

"Okay but what if something else could happen? What if she’s into you? What if the whole intense training thing is just her way of flirting because she doesn’t know how to express emotions like a normal person?"

"Maya Santos does not have emotions. She has combat stances."

"Everyone has emotions, dude. Even terrifying women who could kill us with their bare hands." Leo paused. "Especially terrifying women who could kill us with their bare hands. Have you seen the movies? The scary ones are always the most passionate."