He meant Shaw—they’d been paired together enough that people had noticed. But the implication stuck. Shaw was… competition. A partner for assignments. That was all.
“Try to focus, will you?” Hudson said and droveforward, taking Briggs down again. He hit the mat with a grunt.
Shaw had joined the line along the edge of the mats and Hudson felt his attention like heat on his skin.
On their last round, Briggs’ elbow connected with Hudson’s jaw, supposedly accidental. White light exploded behind Hudson's eyes. Pain flared and a metallic, bitter taste of blood filled his mouth.Asshole. He spat blood and dove in, shifting his weight and using Briggs’s forward momentum to take him down hard. Way rougher than necessary, but whatever. Briggs had it coming.
He swore as Hudson pinned him.
“Point,” Kowalski called. “Match.”
Hudson released him and got up, breathing ragged, adrenaline buzzing through his system. He walked off the mat, hands loose at his sides, some hot restless thing under his skin that he told himself was just the fight.
He grabbed his water bottle and drank, forcing his pulse to slow.
The instructor called a few more names. New opponents fought. Someone went down hard and stayed there a beat too long. The med team hovered, then waved it off.
Then Hudson’s name was called again.
“Lieutenant Hale.”
He stepped forward.
“And Lieutenant Shaw.”
Hudson could have sworn the tension in the room shifted, a few conversations cutting off mid-sentence.
He stepped onto the mat and faced Shaw, stomach coiling. Up close, Shaw gave him nothing.
“Ready?” Kowalski asked.
Shaw nodded once.
Hudson smiled. “Always.”
They circled each other, bare feet silent on the mat.Hudson snapped out a quick jab—testing reach, reaction—and Shaw slipped it, adjusted instantly, matching him without overcommitting.
Okay. So this was how it was going to be.
They were evenly matched in a way Hudson hadn’t experienced in a long time. Every move he made, Shaw answered—like fighting a mirror version of himself, except the mirror had better discipline and less style.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Hudson grinned and closed the distance. He pushed hard enough to test Shaw’s footing. Their bodies collided, solid and warm and impossible to ignore.
Shaw pressed against him, and the hair on Hudson’s neck stood up. Shaw’s jaw scraped against his cheek, rough and unexpected. Their chests rose and fell together, breath synchronized.
Hudson broke apart fast and circled again. "God, you're annoying,” he murmured under his breath.
Shaw's mouth twitched. "And you're predictable."
"Ouch."
Hudson faked left and went right, catching Shaw just off-center. Shaw compensated, but it wasn’t enough. Hudson swept his legs and they both hit the mat with a thud.
“Predictable my ass.” Hudson smirked at Shaw underneath him.
Warmth bled through Hudson’s shirt where Shaw’s body met his. Their faces were close enough that he could see the exact moment Shaw's pupils dilated. Shaw's breath was warm against his cheek, still steady despite the exertion, and Hudson's brain blanked.
This wasnotlike fighting Briggs. Or any other guy he'd grappled with for that matter. Briggs had been all force and no finesse. Shaw’s body under his felt?—
