Chapter Four

It was too early. That was the first thought that ran through Marissa Atwood's mind that Friday morning as she felt her husband plant gentle kisses along her bare and exposed shoulder. It had been a long night before, definitely pleasant, but she hadn't gotten much sleep, especially because there had been a spontaneous encore performance a few hours before, and all she wanted to do was curl her long, tired body around her husband's stronger one, let him hold her tightly, and sleep the day away. After all, he was off, taking a vacation day to give them a long weekend, and her work for the week was finished. Apparently, Ryan had other ideas though.

"Marissa," he whispered in her ear, tickling her skin and making goosebumps cover her already chilled body, "you know you want to get up."

Yawning and unable to open her eyes for she was too tired, she responded slowly, her voice low and raspy with sleep. "Baby, I love the fact that you want to seduce me again, and, trust me, it does sound really appealing, but you have to give me some more recovery time. I'm exhausted." Rolling over onto her stomach and pulling the blankets up over her head, Marissa assumed that would end their discussion. She was wrong.

"You," Ryan teased her, pulling their comforter down to expose the silky smooth skin of her neck and kissing it, "are," he pulled the blanket down slightly further, leaving several kisses along the expanse of her toned back, "so," his words were cut off again as his lips left a warm trail to the seductive depression right above her derrière, "arrogant," he finished sliding his naked body down to lay on top of her completely vulnerable one. "It did not even occur to me to try and seduce you."

"Your words say one thing, but your actions say another."

"Well, what does this tell you," he asked her, carefully getting off her body and walking away from the bed. It sounded as if he went into their closet briefly before reappearing at her side.

"This tells me that I'm cold again," she whined, blindly reaching for the covers. "Ryan, come back to bed. We should be sleeping in all morning and then making love all afternoon." Finally succeeding in grasping the blanket, she pulled it back up over her, snuggling down inside the warmth it provided. Moments later though, it was snatched away, and her vulnerable body was left to shiver in the cold.

Normally, she was easy to get along with, and it was very rare when her husband would get on her nerves, but she was tired, grumpy, and wanted him to go back to sleep with her. Sitting up abruptly in bed, her eyes flashing open in annoyance, she scanned the room for his figure, fiery words tripping easily off her tongue. "Ryan Atwood, just what the hell do you think….," but her ire disappeared just as quickly as it had materialized, her tone softening. "Why is my suitcase out?"

Standing there in front of her, a wide smile lighting up his face, Ryan was dressed in only a pair of clean boxers, obviously up to something. Suddenly, she was no longer tired. Returning his warm expression with one of her own, she hooked her finger and motioned for him to join her on the bed. She hadn't seen him look as excited in years.

"I don't know if I should," he taunted her, referring to her invitation to sit down beside her, even as he walked across the room, "you might become the seducer now, and we don't have time for that."

Falling into their bed, he leaned his body up against the headboard, pulling her into his arms so she could sit perched upon his lap. Resting her hands against his chest, Marissa grinned playfully up at her husband, the early morning light catching the sparkling rings on her fingers and casting beams of radiance around the bedroom. Finally, her curiosity getting the better of her, she couldn't hold in her questions any longer. "What did you do?"

"Well," he started, drawing out his words as if he wanted to prolong her torture, "this is a very special weekend."

That was a good answer. Leaning in, Marissa placed a gentle kiss upon his lips, snickering when he moaned in complaint as she pulled away. "Valentines Day is special," she concurred, "but that still doesn't explain why my suitcase is sitting packed and ready in the middle of our room."

"I don't know, maybe it's just me," Ryan proclaimed sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "but when I go on vacation, I like to take clothes with me. However, seeing as you're practically an exhibitionist…."

"I am not," she exclaimed, smacking him harshly while, at the same time, leaning in to cup his face and kiss his cheek again, "and the only reason that I'm always naked is because you undress me as soon as you get home."

"I do do that, don't I?"

"Umhm," she concurred, her lips too busy to actually respond in anything more than a mumble.

"Are you really sure you want to be this affectionate? You don't even know where we're going yet," he reminded her. Marissa could feel him smirk at her lack of a response as she continued to plant gentle, delicate, alluring kisses on his neck. "It could be a weekend conference for work where I'll be in meetings all day and you'll have to find something to do to amuse yourself."

Dismissing his suggestion, she replied, "I have your credit cards."

"Or maybe we're going to a truck stop, flea bag motel where the only source of entertainment for miles around is a bar."

"I survived the hell hole we stayed at on the way to Tijuana," she reminded him smugly. "In fact, I'll always remember that place fondly, because it was there that I slept in your arms for the very first time."

"So then you don't want to know where we're going this weekend?"

"Of course I want to know," she answered him, shifting in his lap so that she was relaxing her back against his chest, pulling his arms up to wrap around her body and placing them to rest on her plump breasts, "but, as long as I'm with you, I really don't care where we go."

"Good answer," he responded, kissing her shoulder as he took the invitation she presented him with and massaged her eager breasts, "but I have to say you've been especially….friendly lately. Did I do something special?"

"You could say that."

He laughed at her vague remark. "Care to elaborate?"

"That depends," Marissa revealed turning her face around to gaze into his amused eyes, "do you want to exchange gifts now or later?"

"I have a feeling if we open each others presents now, we'll never get on the road. So," he suggested standing up with her cradled protectively in his arms, "I think we should take a shower….together…"

"And I thought you said you weren't going to try to seduce me," she interrupted him, smirking.

Ignoring her comment, he just continued. "Then I was thinking that we could head up to Big Bear after we get ready, check in this afternoon, and maybe have dinner in our room, so that tomorrow we can hit the slopes."

"What about the presents," Marissa asked enthusiastically. "I'm really excited about giving you your present!"

"I was thinking we'd actually wait until Valentines Day," he revealed, "maybe a little breakfast in bed while we open our gifts."

Complaining, Marissa whined, "RYAN! I don't want to wait that long!"

"Well that's just too bad isn't it," he taunted, throwing her over his shoulder and smacking her pert derrière as they walked into their master bathroom, "because you're just going to have to be patient." Kicking the door shut, he moved them towards the glass shower, her protests quickly being smothered by his kisses, her objections drowned out by the water pounding down their backs and the movements of his body inside of her.

-+-

Sitting in front of the fireplace in their room, a roaring fire casting rosy shadows upon her surroundings, Marissa sat sipping a mug of hot chocolate, merely relaxing the early afternoon hours away. She had just returned from a morning at the spa, a surprise Ryan had booked for her, while he had gone out to get his first snow boarding lesson. Now, as she let the quiet of the inn wash over her tranquil body, she wondered just how she would be able to convince Ryan to open their gifts early. It had taken everything within her power to not give it to him a week before when she had wrapped the small, square box, and, at the thought of having to wait even twelve more hours, she thought she would explode with impatience.

Hearing his hotel card slide into their door, Marissa smiled in anticipation of seeing her husband. Just as he had suggested, they had arrived the day before in the afternoon to check in and spend the rest of the day and evening in their suite making love. If she had anything to say about it, they would do the same thing that evening.

"Hey," Ryan called out to her, coming over to her side and placing a kiss on her cheek, "you look cozy. I see your trip to the spa must have gone well."

"It was amazing," she revealed, motioning for him to sit beside her after he had removed his jacket. Snuggling into his arms, Marissa let her head rest against his chest before continuing to talk. "Everything has been perfect, the surprise vacation, the inn, my visit to the spa. I really don't see why you got me any presents…not that I'm complaining, mind you." Smiling innocently, she flirted with him. "I would never turn down presents."

"And here we are again." Ryan said as he stood up from the couch and walked towards the closet where their things were hanging up. With a slight pout on her face, Marissa settled back into the couch, alone, watching his every movement. "I see we're back on the present topic, but," he protested when she went to interject, "I don't care what you say. You're not changing my mind. We are not opening a single gift until tomorrow. End of discussion."

"That's not fair," she argued, standing up and chasing after his retreating figure. "How come you get to decide this?"

"Because, I refuse to open my presents right now which means, even if you give them to me, they're just going to sit there unopened, and you can't get yours, because I had the concierge hide them under the front desk so you couldn't snoop."

Wrapping her arms around his torso, she slipped her fingers underneath his shirt. "Fine, but just for the record, you're no fun."

"You seemed to be having fun last night."

"Yeah,' she snapped at him playfully, "I'm talking right now, not you. Anyway, because you refuse to open presents, I guess you'll have to find some other way to keep me entertained."

Letting go of him, she watched as he rummaged through the closet, ignoring her request for an amusement, and quickly shed her clothes. Standing there simply in a festive, holiday themed set of lingerie, she waited for his attention to, once again, be placed back upon her.

"I already have that covered," Marissa heard Ryan telling her before turning around. "We're going skiing…" His voice trailed off as he saw her appearance. "What's this," he motioned towards her lack of clothes. "If you go out like that you'll get frost bite."

"Plus," she added impertinently, "you'll get in a fight, because I know how possessive you are when another guy looks at me, which means we'll only end up back in the room so I can take care of you. So, why don't we just never leave in the first place? I think we'll both enjoy the evening more that way."

"Or you could get dressed," Ryan offered, handing her the clothes she had so unceremoniously dropped on the floor. "We're at the mountains, so we ski."

"I don't want to go outside; I want to keep you all to myself," Marissa pouted. "Besides, we'll have more fun alone."

"If I wanted to spend all weekend in bed, I wouldn't have booked this trip for us. We can have sex whenever we want, but our schedules don't always work out well enough that we can take a weekend getaway to the mountains. I thought you'd want to ski. You're the one who pushed me to learn how to in the first place and then taught me."

"I just…," she tried to explain, crossing her arms protectively in front of her chest, "I guess I just wanted you to myself. It'll be crowded on the hills, and I thought a quiet evening in would be nice." When she felt tears start to prickle her eyes, she turned away quickly not wanting Ryan to see how upset she was getting over nothing.

"We spent all day yesterday and last night alone," he pointed out, coming up to wrap his arms around her. "What's up with you? Normally it's like pulling teeth to get you to stop skiing. You love it. That's why I booked this trip."

She was silent for a moment unsure of how to answer his question. There was a reason she didn't want to go out, but Marissa knew she couldn't tell him….at least not yet, not like this. "I don't know," she shrugged her shoulders, "I'm kind of tired, and I just don't want to go out, get all wet, and then freeze for the rest of the day." Taking a deep breath, she turned back around in his arms. "But you should go," she suggested, smiling at him warmly. "This isn't just my trip; you're supposed to be enjoying yourself, too, and, if you want to ski, then hit the slopes. I'll just stay here, take a nap, maybe lounge in the tub for a while before getting ready for dinner. We are still going out to dinner, right?"

"Yeah."

His answer was short, curt, and Marissa knew she had hurt him. It wasn't intentional, but that didn't mean the rift between them wasn't as real. Without another word to her, he picked up his coat and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, the tears she had been holding back fell quickly down her pale, apologetic face. This weekend was supposed to be perfect for then, and, suddenly, nothing was going the way she had planned.

-+-

Their elevator ride down to the lobby floor and to the restaurant was silent, the unpleasant tension between them suffocating and claustrophobic. Ryan had returned to their room a half hour before to get ready for dinner, tired, sulking, cold, and wind burnt. She knew he wasn't mad at her, just confused and slightly wounded, but she didn't know what to say in order to fix things between them and make their relationship mirror their closeness from the night before. So, instead, she did nothing, simply walking after him as the elevator doors opened, and he made his way to the restaurant.

As they reached the entrance to the fancy eatery, a large group of people, a party who had just finished dining together, exited, the crush of their bodies attempting to separate them, Ryan's hand, as if on instinct, reached out for hers, taking her palm into his, and pulling her closely to him. It was a simple, natural gesture, but it was enough to break through their tension and make her relax. Leaning her body into his, Marissa felt a warm thrill when his arm moved to wrap tightly around her waist, drawing her to him. As he helped her into her chair, she smiled up at him, catching his hand in hers as soon as he sat down across from her.

"I missed you this afternoon."

"Well, that's your own fault," Ryan told her harshly, pulling his hand away before she could respond. Obviously, she had said the wrong thing.

Taking that as a sign, she sat back in her seat, eyes cast down to her lap as she waited for their waiter to bring the menus. Silently, they both perused the restaurant's options; the only words spoken from his last statement until their food was served were their orders. Finally, unable to handle the distance between them any longer, Marissa offered her husband an apology.

"Look, Ryan, I'm sorry. You're right," she acknowledged, pleading with him to not only listen to her words but to believe them as well, "normally, I do love to ski, and I love that you planned this trip around my hobbies, because that's so sweet of you, but sometimes a girl just feels like being lazy. It had nothing to do with not wanting to be with you or not wanting to share this vacation with you. You, I love you; I always want to be with you, day and night if I can be. I don't want this….thing, this issue to come between us and ruin our weekend. So," she glanced up at him, her eyes dewy and soft, their crystal blue orbs radiating love and commitment, "can we just enjoy the rest of the time we have here together? I swear, we'll do anything you want to do tonight….as long as we don't have to leave the room."

"Sure," he agreed, offering her a small smile. Seeing him grin at her, Marissa sighed contently feeling the pieces of their relationship slowly falling back into place. True, they had only been at odds for a few hours, but she hated it whenever they fought…especially on Valentines Day weekend. "Why don't I pay our bill, order dessert, and we'll take it back up to the room," he offered, standing up and rounding the table to stand at her side. Bending down, Ryan placed a tender kiss on her cheek before walking off to find their waiter.

"Ryan," she called out stopping him mid stride. As he turned back around to face her, she asked, "can you make the dessert chocolate….really rich and sweet?"

His amused smirk gave her the answer she was looking for, and, as she settled back in her chair to wait for him, his soft chuckles could be heard floating over the lull of conversation filling the candlelit restaurant. Just a little while longer, she told herself, and then everything will be perfect.

-+-

It was almost midnight on a Saturday, and Marissa Cooper was awake…by herself, her husband sound asleep beside her. After they had gotten back to their room, she had changed into another piece of lingerie, while Ryan had stripped down to his boxers, climbing into their bed and patting the space beside him for her to join. She assumed they would have dessert in bed….both the literal and figurative kind, but, instead, she had ended up eating both her own and his molten chocolate lava cake with chocolate mousse and strawberry garnishes while watching a cheesy romantic comedy that made her cry, her husband sleeping undisturbed beside her while snoring loudly. Granted, the cakes had been delicious, and she didn't regret eating them, but she would have rather been able to spend time with Ryan while sharing the decadent dessert, only to top off their evening by making love. But, apparently, or so it seemed to her, he had gotten sick of her and no longer wanted to be with her.

The idea that he was tired, that his day spent on the slopes had physically exhausted him while their bickering had emotionally made him weary never occurred to Marissa. She was too upset and disappointed that their weekend was being ruined by a petty fight to realize her husband's non-existent sexual appetite did not stem from a lack of desire but from a genuine sense of fatigue. So, as the movies played on causing her tears to continue falling down her stained cheeks, Marissa sat fretting and plotting, her mind a confusion of worry about her husband and their relationship and of a desire to punish him for being mad at her. Eventually, she settled on an action that was motivated by a combination of both impulses.

Just as the clock struck midnight, she crawled out of bed and tiptoed to her suitcase, unzipping it as quietly as she could, and removed the smallest present inside of it. Although she had gotten Ryan several things for Valentines Day, this was the only gift she cared about. Placing it on her nightstand, she slid back into bed, moving her body to spoon against the back of her husband. With one arm, she propped herself up so she could look down at his peacefully slumbering face, while the other inched its way over his torso and down the expanse of his bare, chiseled, abdomen, dipping its way inside of his boxers.

"Happy Valentines Day, Baby," she purred seductively into his ear, her roaming fingers already waking up at least some portions of his anatomy.

"Hmmm…," he sighed out in contentment, rolling his body over onto his back to give her teasing hand better access to continue her nurturing and attention, "that feels good…., but you're still not getting your present yet."

"That's okay," she dismissed, moving to straddle his waist, her free hand running idly up and down his chest. "All I want is for you to open just one tiny, little, insignificant gift that I got you. That's all, and, as soon as you're done, if you really want to, I'll let you go back to bed, and you can sleep in as late as you want. Scout's honor."

"You were never a girl scout, Marissa."

Tightening her grip on him to almost a painful level, she squeezed him roughly, making Ryan's eyes pop open in surprise. "That's not the point," she replied in a huff. She really wasn't mad at him. In fact, she actually found his quick, sarcastic comments to be cute and endearing, but she also knew that nothing drove her husband as wild with longing as when they were mad at each other and fighting.

Startling her, he flipped them over so that he was hovering over her, his nearness and the power he exuded making her body quake with desire. "You're not being very nice."

"Well neither are you," she returned, staring him down. "You've been demanding, snide, petulant, and a bore all day, and I'm sick of it."

"You are, huh," he taunted her, lowering his mouth to her chest and delicately nipping at her aroused nipples through her thin negligee. Looking up at her with a challenge in his eyes, he pushed, "what are you going to do about it?"

"Two can play this game," she told him smugly, crossing her arms over her chest to block his path of assault. Unfortunately for her senses in their battle of wills, he simply changed tactics and started running one of his hands along her bare thighs, dipping his fingers down between her legs in an attempt to distract her. "If you want to be mean to me, I can be mean right back. No sex, no foreplay, I'll even cut you off from any bodily contact."

"Yeah, but I'm bigger than you," he retorted, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and tugging on it slightly to make his point. "It's going to be pretty hard for you to get away from me. And besides," he played his trump card, "I can tell you want it just as bad as I do right now if not more."

"But it's easier for me to calm back down. You could end up laying here uncomfortable all night long."

"Fine, I give in," Ryan conceded as he dropped his body playfully on top of hers ending their mutual seduction. "I'm wide awake, so I won't be able to go back to sleep, and I'm horny as hell. What do you want from me?"

Pressing her hands against his chest, Marissa motioned for him to let her up. He moved quickly, but as she sat up on her knees to reach across the bed, she felt his hands take hold of her hips, his fingers sliding up under her short, sheer nightgown as his torso pressed against her back and his lips made contact with the delicate skin of her hairline. "Okay, back down," she ordered him, giggling when he took her with him and positioned her, as was their habit, on his lap. "Now, open this," she demanded, carefully placing the small, square box in his large, strong hands.

Resting her head against his shoulder so she could look up and observe his face, she watched the play of emotions on his countenance as he tore off the bright, shiny red paper and endless curls of pink ribbon, tossing their remnants to the side, and opened the lid to the jewelry case. "Wow, Marissa," he teased her, "an empty box. Baby, you shouldn't have."

"Oh quit being a smartass," she laughed at his antics. "There's a card in there."

"It must be a miniature one," he quipped dumping the contents of tissue paper out and leafing through it until he came upon a fine, thin, creamy, appointment card. "I don't get it," he finally responded after reading it. "So, you have an appointment at a Doctor Williamson's office this Thursday at 2:00. Why is that important?"

"Boys really are stupid, aren't they," Marissa complained, taking the gift box out of his hands and letting it drop to the floor. Pointing to the doctor's title, she instructed him, "read the small print."

"Doctor Emily Williamson, Obstetrician and Gynecologist," Ryan followed her directions. As soon as the words resonated in his mind, Marissa watched as the very important appointment card fluttered out of his hands in shock to land as lightly as a feather on her stomach. "Does this mean what I think this means," he finally questioned her after a lengthy amount of silence had passed between them. "Are you….you're not right? I mean….the doctor said it was nearly impossible, and that was only eight months ago, but this card….your appointment….it's my present."

She couldn't take it any longer; he was too damn slow. "Honey, I'm pregnant," she cried out elatedly, turning around and practically jumping up and down on his lap. Leaning in, she captured his shocked and agape mouth in a desperate kiss, taking it over and over again as if she literally craved for his taste. When neither one of them could stay in the embrace for even one more moment, she pulled away, her chest heaving and out of breath, only to smack him upside the head roughly.

"Oww," Ryan yelled out, rubbing the spot her hand had come in contact with his face, "what the hell was that for? Pregnant women really are hormonal and crazy!"

"That's for making me wait all weekend to tell you! Now do you get why I couldn't go skiing with you this afternoon?"

"Well you could have just told me how much you wanted me to open the present," he grumbleed, his face immediately showing signs of apology when her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Alright fine," he conceded, "so you did tell me, and I didn't listen. I'm sorry. From now on I'll do everything and anything you ask me to, promise."

"Anything," she asked innocently, removing her negligee.

"If you insist," Ryan mock complained, pulling the blankets up over their heads to the sound of his wife's eager giggles. It would be a long time that night before either Ryan or Marissa fell asleep….and an even longer time before they would open the presents they had bickered about all weekend. They had better things to do as they celebrated: each other.